


All the King's Horses

by siranonnymouse



Series: This Beautiful Disaster [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Beast Island (She-Ra), Cannon-compliant through season 3, Dreams as a lazy narrative device, F/F, Gen, Giant Spiders, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash, Redemption, The author abuses tenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-21 09:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siranonnymouse/pseuds/siranonnymouse
Summary: After the portal Catra is sent to Beast Island to bring back Entrapta and Scorpia.





	1. Dried Up Places

**Author's Note:**

> This story exists because what I really wanted to write was a post-redemption Catradora fic that honored the events of season 3. But in order to that I had to figure out how Catra could be redeemed after her downward spiral.
> 
> 20,000+ words later…
> 
> The story is finished with chapters coming out as quickly as I can revise them. Ideally it will all be posted before season 4 renders the whole thing non-cannon.

Catra dreamed.

Adora stands over her as she clings to the wall of the cliff. The light of the collapsing world streams up around her lifting Adora’s ponytail up into the air.

“Grab my hand,” Adora shouts, stretching down toward where Catra’s claws are starting to lose purchase. “I can still fix this! I can still save you!”

“Don’t you get it?” Catra shouts back. The roar of the ground falling apart around them is getting louder. “I don’t care! I won’t let you win. I’d rather die than let that happen!”

Adora’s face shifts. The soft concern in her eyes is replaced with the cold blue of She-ra’s gaze.

“No Catra, you don’t get it.” Her voice is deeper suddenly. There is a familiar lilting quality Catra couldn’t quite place. She isn’t shouting anymore but somehow Catra can hear every syllable. “I always win in the end. And you will always fall!”

She-ra’s lunges forward and rips Catra’s hand from the protruding rock. Catra is thrown backward into the stream of nothingness. It burns. She tries to scream but there is no air in her lungs.

***

Catra sat up in bed with a gasp. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart pounded so loudly in her chest it almost sounded like someone banging on the door to her room.

Wait. No. That was someone pounding on the door to her room.

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Come in,” she shouted, louder than she meant to but it covered the quiver in her voice.

“Uh…hi Catra. It’s me.” Kyle poked his head through the door. “Um…Hordak wants to see you. Right now. That’s all gottago.” He squeaked and slammed the door shut again.

Catra swallowed against nausea rising in her throat and got out of bed.

***

It had only been a week since the portal. Things in the Fright Zone had returned to some sort of normalcy; the soldiers continued their battle maneuvers and the cadets continued their training simulations. Hordak had been locked inside his inner chambers with only his demon assistants, but that wasn’t so different than before the portal. Catra had no idea what he was working on—a new portal, a new strategy for defeating She-ra and the princesses—but that was hardly a change either.

It was all disturbingly normal aside from the fact that Catra had no idea what her status was anymore. She wasn’t re-imprisoned but was she back to force captain status? Second in command? What was her mission? The lack of purpose made her skin itch. Given all her years of ducking responsibility it would have been hilarious if it weren’t so stressful. If Adora could see her now she would….

No. Adora wouldn’t care. Adora didn’t matter anymore.

Catra held her head up high as she approached Hordak’s throne. She tried to ignore the echoes of her trial as she passed the rows of soldiers lining the chamber. She spared a glance around for Scorpia but didn’t see her familiar shock of white hair anywhere in the crowd. No purple either. Not that Catra was expecting to see Entrapta….

“Catra,” said Hordak in his low gravelly voice. He was seated on his throne in his full regalia without a hair out of place. No sign of the staggering wreck Catra had seen in the chamber the day of the portal. Catra felt the familiar staccato of her heartbeat and her mouth went dry. Still, she was nothing if not good at bravado. She clenched her teeth and stepped forward.

“Lord Hordak,” she said, pleased when the words came out with confidence. “I heard you wished to speak to me. I wasn’t expecting all this ceremony.”

“It has come to my attention that the Princess Entrapta has been spotted on a transport ship to Beast Island.”

Catra could feel sweat dripping down the back of her suit. She swallowed.

“That is unexpected, my Lord. Was she apprehended on her way out of the Fright Zone?”

Hordak grunted.

“That remains to be seen. It seems your friend and fellow force captain Scorpia was seen with her.”

Catra’s heart sped up. She wondered idly what would happen if she just passed out in Hordak’s throne room in front of all these people. Probably nothing good.

“Strange,” said Catra. “Perhaps even after all this time some of her Princess tendencies have gotten the better of her.”

Hordak crossed his arms over his chest.

“An interesting theory. And yet unsatisfying given that Scorpia’s greatest allegiance appears to have been to you previously. After all, she did risk almost certain death in the Crimson Waste to accompany you.”

Catra snorted. “Perhaps she knew I wasn’t so easy to kill as you expected. I can’t imagine the same holds true for Entrapa on Beast Island.”

“I did not sentence Entrapta to die. Nor did I sanction her or Scorpia’s transfer to Beast Island.”

Catra shrugged. “Seems like it’s been taken care of for you.”

“I DID NOT SANCTION IT!” Hordak roared standing suddenly from his seat. Catra couldn’t fight her instinct to shrink backwards.

“You will go to Beast Island and retrieve them,” Hordak continued. “You have proven yourself resourceful in places with few resources in the past. And you have yet to prove your loyalty to me since returning from the Waste.”

“Prove my loyalty!” Catra forced herself to stand up straight again. “You sent me to die and I brought you the key to your most precious project! How much more loyal can I get?”

Hordak regarded her with emotionless red eyes. “You pursued your own private vendetta and nearly destroyed us all in the process. If you are truly loyal you will bring the Princesses Entrapta back for a proper trial and punishment. Scorpia as well if you are able. If not; well then Beast Island is probably a fitting punishment and I likely should have sent you there in the first place.”

He gestured to one of the soldiers, who stepped forward to grasp Catra’s arm.

“You’re sentencing me to death,” she shouted, jerking her. “For what? For helping you achieve your goal. So what I had my own agenda!? You need me.”

“Indeed. I need you to bring back the Princess Entrapta. She may well be a traitor, but she will be far more useful in my dungeons than rotting on that infernal island. That will be all now, take her away.”

With that Hordak turned and exited the throne room.

Catra whirled around only to realize she was surrounded by soldiers. She searched frantically over their shoulders for her team. For a moment she thought she caught sight of Lonnie’s braids, but it immediately was lost from her view. She tried to run but several hands were holding her arms and (horrifyingly) someone had grasped onto her tail. She heard the crackled of a stun baton and then everything went dark.

***

The boat creaked and moaned as metal slats shifted against each.

“This is fascinating,” Entrapta murmured as she peered through the porthole. “The friction between air molecules and water molecules propagates a wave function that transfers energy for _miles_! And the variation, there must be some sort of relation to the lunar cycles but with three moons the equation is going to be exceedingly complex. Plus, we can’t discount the possibility of interaction with the First One’s tech that has surely been buried along the route. How have I never thought to study the ocean before?”

“Oh, I don’t know about studying the ocean, but I can tell you nothing quite beats the fresh salt air,” Scorpia replied, leaning her head back against the bulkhead. “I mean, when they let you up to appreciate it. This cabin is not my favorite way to travel, no siree.” She chuckled to herself and then winced when another prisoner chose that moment to vomit into a bucket.

“Once we get to our destination, I will need to take some measurements,” Entrapta said. “I still have a few bits of equipment, but do I wish I still had access to Hordak’s lab.”

“Uh…Entrapta, you do know that we are headed to an island that no one has ever come back from, right? We are going to have to put all of our resources into survival.”

“I _know_! Why don’t people every come back thought; there has to be an explanation.”

“Because they get eaten by the beasts…on Beast Island?”

“Seems statistically unlikely; at least a few souls would have escaped after so many years.” Entrapta turned around and peered at Scorpia through the safety goggles pulled down of her eyes. “I have some theories, but I need to run a few more tests.”

“Uh…okay, Entrapta.” Scorpia stared up at the bulkhead ceiling. “But I don’t think we should discount the beasts either.”

“Never fear, friend,” Entrapta exclaimed, resuming her position staring out the porthole. “Like any good scientist, I have planned ahead.” She used one of her hair tendrils to thrust a small manual in Scorpia’s direction.

Scorpia took the book. “Uh…thank you?” The title read “A Princess Survival Guide to Beast Island.” Scorpia thumbed through it. “Well this seems weirdly perfectly suited to our current predicament.”

“The right tool for the right job,” declared Entrapta. Scorpia couldn’t really argue with that.

***

Catra woke up on a ship, which was just adding insult to injury, really.

A hawk-faced Force Captain glared down at her. Catra barely remembered her from one of the few Force Captain meetings she had bothered to attend. She thought her name was possibly Leona.

“Good you’re awake. Take this.” She thrust a small device at Catra who groaned as she sat up to accept it. “This only works once. You press it when you have the Princess and we will come and pick you up from the North Shore. Don’t bother pushing the button before you have Entrapta; we’re under strict orders to leave you behind if we don’t see her with you. No get-out-of-jail-free card just for managing to survive a few days out there.”

Catra stared at the device. It was a small green rectangle with a smooth red button in the center and a blinking yellow light in the top right-hand corner. She grunted.

“He’s just throwing me out there by myself?” she asked. “I can’t even bring my companions from the Waste?”

The Force Captain likely named Leona made a trilling noise that Catra interpreted as a laugh.

“They asked around, kitty. I think the exact quote was, ‘Heck no; I’ve seen how she treats her friends.’”

Catra felt her face color.

Leona leaned her head down close to Catra, beak inches from her nose. “You got a shitty deal for sure little fighter, but you can hardly say you didn’t ask for it. You’ve been playing fast and loose with your attitude. I don’t know what caused all your little friends to abandon you, but if it’s anything like the lip you gave Hordak before he sent you off to the Wastes I’m not surprised you’re all alone.” She snorted. “Bet you thought you’d lost everything then, but there’s always farther to fall.”

Catra turned her head away and pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Whatever. Just let me know when we get there.”

The captain trilled again. “Oh, trust me, you will know. And be grateful. The prisoners don’t get supplies.” With that she dropped a small bag next to Catra and walked away

Catra sank back against the side of the ship and tried to ignore the knowledge that she was surrounded by water on all sides.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew she was being grabbed by the shoulders and hauled to her feet. A stun baton crackled behind her.

“We’re here. Move,” came the tinny command from within the soldier’s helmet.

Catra hissed but followed instructions as she was escorted of the ship and onto a small rowboat that made her stomach churn. She sulked as sea water splashed up, cold against her arms. Once the boat hit the shore, they tried to grab her by the shoulders but Catra hissed again and jerked her arm out of the soldier’s grasp. She snatched the pack from a different soldier’s hands and leapt over the side. She winced as her feet hit the mushy sand at bottom of the shallows and marched toward the shore.

***

“Okay so according to this the first thing we should do is find fresh water,” muttered Scorpia as she flipped through manual. “I think they have diagram here…oh! Oh whoopsies.” One of her claws caught the edge of the page tearing it slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry…I think I can fix that. Do you have any tape?”

“This place is maaaagical.”

“Uh, what?” Scorpia turned to see Entrapta on her hands and knees with her nose inches from the coarse sand that covered the beach of Beast Island.

“These tiny rocks,” muttered Entrapta, holding out some sort of small cylindrical device next to her face. It made a strange whining noise.

“You mean the sand?”

“Sand? This is no ordinary sand!” She looked up and beamed at Scorpia. “These are tiny fragments of data crystals! I mean…not all of them. Some of them. Mixed in with the sand. And you know what that means?”

Scorpia tried to think. “Lots of tiny data?”

“IT MEANS THERE MUST BE A MASSIVE DATA CRYSTAL SOMEWHERE ON THIS ISLAND!” Entrapta shouted. She jumped to her feet. “And I’m going to find it. Oh, Hordak will be so excited when I tell him about this!”

“Hordak? I…wait, Entrapta!” Scorpia shouted at the purple-haired princess as she scampered off toward the shoreline. “Oh no.” She rubbed one claw across her forehead and sighed. “I hope this massive data crystal is near some fresh water at least,” she muttered as she gave chase.

***

Catra trudged up the beach to the tree line and sat on rock to take inventory. In addition to the tracker her supply bag contained two canteens of water and a handful of ration bars. Enough for a few days of survival but she was going to need to find an alternate source of fresh water and food soon if she wanted to make it through the week.

_Or you could just find Entrapta and Scorpia and click your get-home button._

Catra stared at the blinking remote at the bottom of the bag and frowned. She shoved the supplies back in and threw it over her shoulder.

The moons were starting to dip below the horizon and in the dimming light the orange sand seemed to almost glow. Staying near beach was probably her safest bet for now. Catra wasn’t certain where the beast (beasts?) of Beast Island hung out, but the dense foliage past the edge of the jungle did not look inviting. She could get her bearings tonight and trek deeper in search of a means of survival once the light was better.

She scouted around the edge of the tree line collecting branches and set to work constructing a lean-to a few feet from the edge of the sand line. She cleared a small area for a camping fire, but when she thought about lighting it she imagined some burly creature with fangs emerging from the undergrowth at the smell of smoke, so she left the pile of sticks and leaves to sit.

She stared at her not fire as the light faded from the sky fully. The low hum of insects seemed to get louder as darkness fell. She could still see reasonably, thanks to whatever genetic fluke had made her part cat, but the color faded to nothing but greys. She shivered despite the humidity.

Catra glanced back at her lean to and then jumped back onto all fours as she watched a multilegged creature scurry across the floor and disappear under a log.

Heart pounding, Catra scanned the forest floor, suddenly aware of the not deafening white noise of jungle.

“Oh no,” she muttered and glanced around. Her eyes caught site of a wide tree branch hanging about ten feet above the underbrush.

“Screw this.” She scurred up the side of the tree to the branch and crouched there, studying the jungle around her. When nothing moved for several long minutes, she lay down on the branch and tried to settle herself. It wasn’t comfortable per-say, but at least she felt she was further away from things that skittered. Catra shuddered and closed her eyes.

She didn’t quite fall asleep, but after a few hours the tension in her body seemed to fade back to the low level that lived in her shoulders chronically. Slowly, very slowly, she felt her mind start to drift.

Her eyes sprang open at a soft clicking noise next to her. Immediately she was crouched on all fours, peering through the darkness. There was a small rustling in the bushes near the base of an adjacent tree.

Catra held perfectly still aside from the twitch of the tip of her tail. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

A moment later a small furry creature with pointed ears and a large fluffy tail nearly the same size as its body scampered across the camping area making a loud chittering noise. Catra let out her breath.

Almost as soon as her heartbeat started to slow the clicking noise returned, louder this time and directly behind her. Catra whirled around on the branch and almost fell in her attempt to scamper backwards as she found herself facing a large creature with a bulbous body and eight long, pointed legs hanging from a higher branch of the tree above her.

Catra hissed and extended her claws. She had half a second to consider the fact that these creatures looked remarkably like the security system of the Crystal Cavern before the spider fired webs toward her face.

Catra grinned as she swiped the web away with her claws. She leapt toward the creature, landing on its head and immediately clawing for one of the shiny red eyes. She expected to encounter glass or metal as her hand came down and was slightly horrified when her fingers sank into soft, wet tissue.

“Eugh!” She ripped her hand back staring at it in horror.

The pause was a moment too long. One of the many legs of the creature plucked her off its back and threw her off the tree and onto the forest floor. Catra managed to twist and land on her hands and feet but when she whirled around to face her opponent the only thing she could see were dripping fangs bearing down on her. She turned to run but felt a prick to the back of her right calf before she could take a step.

Immediately icy-hot pain spread out from the puncture. Catra screamed and tried to scramble away but her leg would not cooperate. She fell onto her back facing the spider who was spitting out more webs. Catra was immediately covered head to toe. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her head swam as she tried desperate to gasp for air.

_Not this way, _she thought as she started to lose consciousness. _It can’t end like this._

Just before she passed out, she heard a loud crash and a man’s voice shouting but she couldn’t make out the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can be found at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sir-a-nonny-mouse if you want to chat about all things She-Ra. Please ignore the utter lack of content...I don't know how to tumblr.
> 
> 1\. I have a private headcannon that Hordak was aware of Catra's rough upbringing and Shadow Weaver's favoritism. He promoted her in the first season because he knew that Catra was much more capable than Shadow Weaver ever gave her credit for, but he underestimated how broken she was after all the years of abuse. Now he's stuck with a volatile super-weapon that he can't control. While in this story he doesn't know the extent of her betrayal, he does know that she is dangerous to him. He thinks of the Beast Island quest as a win-win; either she brings back Entrapta (who he imagines he can imprison and force to make repairs on his suit) or she is killed off by Beast Island and no longer Hodak's problem.
> 
> 2\. God I love Scorpia and Entrapta. I definitely don't do them justice in this story, but they're just great. (It does get better than this chapter, though, I promise.)
> 
> 3\. I have a whole other headcannon about the hybrid-kingdoms that the Horde overtook early on. Obviously in the series there seems to be a predator/prey relationship but in my mind all the soldiers must have come from the conquered kingdoms who then assimilated into the Horde. The Aerie was full of hawk-people so that's where Leona's people were from. Not that she knows that.
> 
> 4\. New Kyle and friends noped right the heck out of there after the portal incident.


	2. Running From Yourself

Catra dreamed.

“Don’t you get it, Adora? I never needed you to save me.” Catra and She-ra circle each other on the edge of the cliff amidst the roar of the dying alternate universe. “You leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me!”

She dodges She-ra’s sword once, and again. She can see the frustration and anger in She-ra’s eyes—hints of Adora bleeding through—and it makes her feel powerful. She giggles as she ducks another swing of the sword and runs forward, shoving a shoulder into She Ra’s solar plexus and sending her over backwards. Catra kneels over She Ra and hisses down at her. “You only ever held me back! I’m stronger than anyone ever knew.”

She-ra’s eyes narrow and the world flips. Suddenly it’s Catra on her back with She-ra towering over her, sword in hand.

“Strong?” She-ra laughs and her face changes to something reminiscent of the corrupted princess from the frozen north. There is no Adora to be found in the alien expression and Catra feels a chill of fear run through her. “That’s funny, because I think you just tried to destroy the universe as an elaborate hissy fit for me leaving you.” She-ra leans in close and whispers in Catra’s hear. “When did you get so weak?”

She-r rears back and hold up the sword ready to strike.

“You wouldn’t have the guts,” Catra says. She can remember another time, another place where she said those words with confidence. Now she can hear the tremor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t I?”

Fear grips her. Before she can stop herself Catra shouts, “Adora, please!”

“Adora is dead,” She-ra shouts. “You killed her.”

The sword comes down through Catra’s gut. She can feel it, piercing through her, can feel the warm blood bubbling up to the surface of her skin. She coughs. She looks up She-ra and sees….

Nothing. No remorse. No panic. No sadness. Just cold, red eyes on an expressionless face.

_I never thought it would end this way,_ Catra thinks.

***

Catra gasped herself awake. Her hand came immediately to her abdomen and a wave of relief washed over her to find the skin and clothing intact.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said a deep voice to her right.

“Gah!” Catra snapped her head to the side and saw a man with dark hair tied in a top know and a salt and pepper beard sitting at a wooden table in the middle of a ramshackle kitchen. She shoved herself off the bed she only just realized she was lying on, ready to run. Instead both of her legs gave out under her and she collapsed to the ground, hard.

“Ah…whoops. I…uh meant to warn you about that,” said the man rushing over and reaching out for Catra’s arm.

Catra jerked away from him and hissed. “What did you do to me!?” she shouted, trying frantically to drag herself toward the door. To her horror she couldn’t seem to get either of her legs move even to inch her across the ground. She couldn’t even feel them. She raised one hand with claws extended. Her eyes darted around the room looking for an escape.

The man stepped back and held up both hands in a surrendering gesture. “It wasn’t me! just brought you here. It was the Spinder you were fighting. They have a paralytic agent in their venom.”

Catra had a flashback to the horrendous pain that had spread from where the spider-creature had bit her. She glanced from the man’s face to the door down to her own useless legs flopped on the ground.

“Who are you? How did I get here? Where am I?”

The man touched his own chest. “My name is Micah. You got here by me and Fredrich—but mostly me—carrying you. And here is…well my house. Can I please help you get back in the bed?”

Catra hissed again. “I’ll get myself back,” she snapped. She glanced at the door she suspected led outside and then back to the bed she had just vacated. Every instinct in her begged to race for the door but she had no idea what she was going to do when she got there.

_Not that that’s ever stopped me before,_ she thought to herself before starting to drag herself back toward the bed.

Micah watched her in silence, but she could almost feel the strain as he held himself back from reaching out to help her. The process was slow and mortifying, but she was eventually able to lift herself back onto the straw-stuffed mattress.

She positioned herself with her back against the wall and glared at Micah. He was dressed in plain brown leathers with a thick heavy knit cloak over his shoulder. He looked…familiar somehow, but Catra couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Uh…are you hungry? Would you like some stew? It should be ready in a minute.”

Catra’s stomach growled at the thought but she ignored it.

“I would like some answers,” she said instead. “Why did you bring me here?”

Some color popped into Micah’s cheeks and he looked down to pick an invisible piece of lint off his shirt. “Fredrich and I were out for a late-night stroll and we heard your scream. We came to check things out and saw you were about to be lunch for the Spinder, so we decided to intervene.”

Catra narrowed her eyes. “Out for a stroll…in the middle of the night…through Beast Island? And who is Fredrich?”

Micah looked up. “Oh, he’s sitting next to you.”

Catra started. She looked to her left where she met the beady black eyes of the same little creature with the bushy tail that had run out of the underbrush last night.

Every predator instinct in her went on high alarm. She froze in place and felt her claws, which had retracted during her struggle back onto the bed, extend again.

The creature chittered at her, shook an angry fist and then darted away just moments before Catra reached out to swipe at it. She missed and nearly toppled over onto her side.

The creature, Fredrich, scampered across the floor and darted up Micah’s side perch on his shoulder. He chittered loudly into Micah’s ear.

“Well obviously,” Micah said, ostensibly replying to whatever the rodent was screeching about. “She’s a Magicat. What did you expect, bating her like that?”

“She’s a what?” Catra snapped.

Micah’s looked back over to her. “Uh…a Magicat?”

“A what?”

“Your race. The Magicats.”

Catra scowled. “I am a Horde soldier. My race is irrelevant.”

“I think technically you’re a Horde prisoner now, correct? They’re not sending their best and brightest to Beast Island these days.”

“_I_ am not a prisoner.” Catra paused. “I…misplaced something valuable to Hordak. He sent me to find it.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“What is it to you?” she said. “Were you in need of a second pet or something? You can hardly be taking in every wayward Horde prisoner who ends up on this forsaken island.”

Micah shrugged. “Like I said, we heard your cry and we tried to help. Obviously, you’re in no state to go searching for your lost…item right now and I don’t really want to see my hard work go to waste. Here.” He walked over to a small cookfire in the corner of the room and ladled some sort of thick broth into a bowl. “Have some stew. Relax. I have some work to do in the other room. The paralytic from the Spinder will wear off in a few days. Whenever you can walk you can leave. No more questions asked.”

Catra accepted the bowl. She stared down at the liquid and sniffed it. She looked back up at Micah.

“Oh! A spoon.” He handed her a small wooden utensil.

Catra stared at the utensil and then back at the bowl. There was delectable smell coming from the “stew” or whatever he had called it. She took the wooden object from him and then bent her head down close to the broth and lapped at it gingerly. It was warm and a bit salty with a deeper earthy flavor that Catra couldn’t place but was maybe reminiscent of the yellow ration bars in the Horde.

Micah’s eyes widened. “Have you…never had soup before?”

Catra glared.

“You uh…I mean it’s fine to eat it that way, but the spoon will help you get some of the vegetable chuncks. Let me show you.” He demonstrated dipping the spoon into the bowel and lifting it up with a large orange tuber balancing on the end. “Up to you.”

Catra snatched the spoon out of his hand causing the vegetable chunk to splash back down into the broth. She mimicked his movement, bringing up a mouthful of broth and vegetables.

It was heavenly; warm and filling and full of so many flavors Catra couldn’t describe. Swallowing it down felt like scratching an itch she hadn’t known she was ignoring. She continued to spoon the stew into her mouth, forgetting about her audience until Micah cleared his throat.

Catra looked up. “What?”

“My only rule is please don’t interrupt me while I’m working.” He gestured to a door on the right side of the room that as open just slightly enough to tell it led into a shed of some kind. “Oh, and please don’t eat Fredrich. You probably can’t catch him right now, but once you get your legs back, he might be hard to resist. I’d be very put out if he died.”

Fredrich chittered in seeming agreement with this sentiment. Catra just shrugged and said “Fine,” before returning to her stew.

Micah watched her for another minute before he disappeared into the shed and shut the door behind him. A few minutes later a faint white light seemed to glow through the slats of the wall. Catra paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and stared. There seemed to be something familiar about the pulsing of the light.

Fredrich scampered up the side of the wall and settled himself on a shelf that contained a little nest of fabric scraps. He chittered at Catra for a few seconds before curling himself into a ball and seeming to go to sleep.

Catra set her now empty bowl aside the decided to do the same. She lay down on her side, tugging her legs into some sort of sensible position. It probably wasn’t the wisest idea to let down her guard in this strange place with this strange man and his little rat creature, but she hadn’t had a full night’s rest in almost three days now and she had no idea how long it would take before her legs were working well enough to get her out of here. If they going to hurt her, they would get a chance eventually.

Even before she fully finished the thought, she was unconscious.

***

“Good news! I found a small spring about a half hour’s walk into the jungle and there were these berry things nearby that seem to match this illustration in the manual as safe to eat!” Scorpia dumped and armload of supplies onto the campsite they had set up on the beach. “Uh…what are you doing?”

Entrapta was lying on her stomach examining an array of variably sized pebbles spread out on the flattened sand in front of her. In one hand she had the small beeping cylindrical device from earlier and in her other there was one of the seemingly endless supply of tracker pads she had on her person at all times.

“You were right!” Entrapta exclaimed as she reached for a handful of berries and shoved them in her mouth.

“Great! Uh…right about what?”

“These tiny data crystals; they contain tiny bits of data! I am collecting relevant pieces together to try to gain information about the larger piece of First One’s tech they came from! If my initial calculations are correct the main structure should be about ten miles that way.” She thrust a finger toward the densest part of the jungle and let out a delighted laugh. “I never expected such advances in my research on such a primitive appearing island.”

Scorpia sighed. “But don’t you think we should maybe stay put for a little bit longer? I finally found a reliable source of food and water and the jungle is not striking me as a particularly safe place to travel. I saw these spider webs up in the canopy that have to have been as big as Hordak’s inner sanctum.”

“Research cannot advance without risks!” Entrapta shouted jumping to her feet. She paused and took in the setting moons. “Although maybe we should wait until daytime before venturing on. We will travel more efficiently with a reliable light source.”

Scorpia gave a relieved sigh. “Good. Let’s get the fire going again.”

***

When Catra woke from her nap the cabin was silent. She lay on her side for a moment, eyes closed, just absorbing the sensation of feeling rested. After a long minute she tried to roll over and managed to get her legs tangled up on the process. She cursed and forced herself up into a sitting position.

The cabin was small; one large room and the smaller space Micah had disappeared into from what she could tell. The building was oddly put together, haphazard logs and boards going every which way with no real obvious means of support. The irregular network created dozens of small pockets of shelves that seemed to contain a strange assortment of knick knacks. Some appeared to be scraps of cloth woven into small sculptures while others looked like animal bones or colorful rocks.

In the far corner was the cookfire where the now cold pot of stew was resting. A rack beside it was covered with wooden plates and bowls and utensils. In the center of the room was a large (or at least large for the space) wooden table and a single chair which looked as whimsically constructed as the rest of the place.

The door to the room where Micah had disappeared was still closed, although the strange white light seemed to have disappeared. Catra cast a glance over to Fredrich’s nest, but he had disappeared. She felt the tip of her tail fluff up a bit at the thought of him scurrying around the cabin somewhere.

Wait! Her tail! She hadn’t been able to feel it at all before she had fallen asleep. She whipped it around in front of her and twitched the tip back and forth a few times. A wave of relief washed over her. She was getting better. Slowly, but it was happening.

The door to the side room creaked open and Micah trudged through. A few stray hairs had escaped his top knot and the bags underneath his eyes looked more pronounced.

“You look better than when I left,” Micah commented as he sat down on the single chair pushed up against the table.

“You look decidedly worse,” said Catra.

Micah raised an eyebrow. “Not one for niceties, I see. I might have guessed being raised by the Horde.”

Catra scowled. “You don’t know anything about how I was raised.”

A strange look crossed Micah’s face but he shrugged and didn’t reply.

Catra studied her claws. After a minute she sighed and said. “What is a Magicat?”

Micah looked up at her. “You really don’t know? The Horde didn’t tell you anything about…? Well no, I guess they wouldn’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Micah shook his head. “Did you think you were the only one of your kind?”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I’m not stupid. I know where the orphans at the Horde come from.” She shrugged and studied a claw. “I was just the only one like me in the Horde.” She frowned. “Not that it mattered.”

“The Magicats were a race of cat-hybrid people that lived in a forest on the outskirts of the Crimson Waste. Half-Moon. They were excellent warriors and very territorial, so they didn’t often venture outside of their territory. They were one of the last territories to fall to the Horde before the final stand of the Princess Alliance.”

“Final stand of the Princess Alliance,” Catra muttered. “If only.”

Micah raised an eyebrow.

“What’s it to you, old man.? Following Etherian politics from your hermit cave?”

Micah laughed. “I wasn’t always the ‘hermit’ of Beast Island, kitten. I didn’t end up here by accident any more than you did.”

“You’re telling me that _you_ fought for the rebellion?”

“I never did understand that term. The rebellion. Hordak crash landed and started taking over one kingdom at a time; how does defending your home make you a rebel? I guess it all just depends on your perspective. But yes, I fought for the princesses. Is this where you tell me that Hordak just wanted a more ‘orderly’ Etheria?”

Catra looked away.

“Yeah you don’t strike me as a true believer.”

Catra snorted. “It’s easy to have high lofty beliefs when everyone loves you. I had to fight for everything I ever had. And then, boom, one mistake and lost it all just as fast. Scrap my way back to the top and now look at me.” She gestured to her useless legs. “Let’s just say I have a really _practical_ view about idealism.”

Micah’s mouth quirked up in a little half smile. “That’s an interesting read of the situation. I think another version might be that you doubled down on your allegiance to a man you knew very well was selling half-truths and cruelty and it predictably did not work out in your favor. The princesses are not without their flaws, but at least their ideals are in earnest.”

“Yeah, earnest enough to make them all weak and vulnerable. No thank you.” Catra squirmed herself to a more comfortable position. “Why did you even bother to save me, an evil Horde solider, anyway? You never really answered that part. For all you know I’ve just come from attacking your favorite princess stronghold. Were you more a fan of the sarcastic mermaidy one or the hippie?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know who I was saving when I went in there,” he said, standing up. “And now here you are. My vulnerable ideals preclude me from tossing you out when you can’t walk.” He moved toward the door. “Or letting you starve to death on my bed. So, I’m going to do a bit of gardening and make dinner.”

“Stew?” Catra asked before could stop herself. She winced at the hopeful rise in her voice.

Micah smiled. “Yes, stew. You’ll get sick of it eventually. But it’s nice to have someone who appreciates my cooking.” He shot a look into the corner of the room and Catra could hear angry chittering from wherever Fredrich must be hiding. “Back in a few.”

***

Scorpia was miserable. She had sand in parts of her shell she couldn’t reach, the skin on the back of her neck was sunburned and every non-shell part of her body was itching both from bug bites and a strange rash that that had popped up on her right forearm. They had been walking for hours with Entrapta cheerfully chatting about technomagical interfaces while her prehensile hair seemed to have taken on the burden of walking and swatting away bugs.

“Oh dear,” muttered Entrapta suddenly, breaking off her technobabble stream-of-consciousness.

“What?” Scorpia asked through gritted teeth.

“Weeeell, I think there might be a slight error in my calculations.”

“And?”

“And I think maybe we’ve been walking the wrong direction for the past twenty minutes.”

Scorpia took a slow, deep breath in and out of her mouth. She turned and took a step but paused when Entrapta squeaked.

“Also, I think perhaps you’re standing in a bee’s nest.”

“A what’s nest?”

“Bees? Small yellow critters with stingers?”

Scorpia suddenly became aware of a loud humming bubbling up around her feet. She glanced down and saw the swarm slowly amassing and rising from what had looked like a pile of leaves when Scorpia had stepped on it.

“Run?” asked Scorpia.

“Run,” agreed Entrapta.

“AAAAAAAAAGH”

***

Catra was starting to get used to being in the cabin. Every day she was getting a little more movement in her legs. As Micah had explained it, the poison had spread from the initial site of her injury and retreated back in much the same manner. Eventually she was able to limp awkwardly around the cabin, dragging her right leg behind her and using the furniture to support her.

Micah took this as a sign that it was time for her to pitch in.

“Weeding?”

“Have you never seen a garden before?”

Catra just raised her eyebrows at him.

Micah closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Do I even want to know what is in those ration bars you were carrying around with you?”

“Protein, carbohydrates and a small amount of lipids with the requisite vitamin and mineral supplementation,” said Catra.

“H’okay. Well outside of the Horde we eat something called ‘food’ which generally comes from plants in the ground or animals that are used for meat. Since everything on Beast Island is generally more interested in eating us than becoming dinner meat is sparse so most of what I make is vegetable based. To get enough vegetables to feed you, me and a surprisingly voracious squirrel I grow them in a small plot of land in the back yard. That’s called a garden. And it needs weeding.”

Catra blinked at him.

“You know what, just come with me and I’ll show you.”

It was the first time Catra had ventured outside the cabin since waking up in it. The air was humid enough she could feel the fur on her tail puff up and her skin felt tacky almost immediately. Micah handed her a long stick to use as support as she limped out onto the front porch.

Immediately she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the low hum of the jungle came rushing at her.

“Don’t worry,” said Micah, seeing her shrink back. “We’re protected here. As long as you stay back from the tree-line you’re pretty safe.”

“Pretty safe,” Catra muttered and deliberately chose not to ask _how_ they were so protected.

“This is the garden,” Micah said, gesturing to a large dirt square that was subdivided into several smaller squares with neat lines of greenery poking up. “Come with me, we’ll start with the carrots.” He led her over to one of the patches and crouched down.

“This is a carrot,” he said, pulling one of the stalks out of the ground to reveal a long conical orange tuber. Catra recognized it from where she had seen bunches lying out on the kitchen table in the cabin. “They grow underground, so all that you can see is the stalks poking up which should pretty much all look like this,” he pointed to the green bit he’d pulled the carrot up with. “These other plants,” now he pointed to a thin vines growing next to the row of carrot stalks, “are weeds. As they grow, they will start to choke off the carrots and take over the garden. So, we pull them up.”

He tugged gently and the vine lifted with a shower of dirt. Catra could see dozens of smaller roots dividing from the piece Micah had pulled from.

“You want to try to pull them up with the roots still attached, otherwise they just come back. Like the carrots, there is often more beneath the dirt than above it.”

Catra set down her walking stick and lowered herself down sit on the ground, unable to crouch with her weak leg. She grasped one of the weeds and pulled sharply, ripping the stalk where it went into the ground. She glared at the small piece of greenery in her hand. “This is stupid.”

“You have to be gentle, otherwise they tear like that and then you have to go after the roots with a tool. Here, try again.”

Catra smacked the dirt with one hand. “Why am I doing this? I’m leaving as soon as I can walk without that stupid stick!”

“One possible reason might be as a favor to an old man who has shown you a great deal of hospitality,” replied Micah. There was not much bite to his words but Catra could feel her cheeks heat. “Another might be that I’m watching you go quietly stir-crazy sitting around the cabin all day so this might give you something to do aside from quelling your urge to chase Fredrich around the place.”

Catra’s blush deepened.

“Here, try this one,” Micah gestured to the small plant by Catra’s hand. “Just pull gently and wiggle it a little and you can free the whole thing. If it’s really stuck or you tear it again you can use this to wedge it free.” He handed her a small trowel.

Catra reluctantly took the trowel and reached for the weed. This time she tugged a little more softly and felt the dirt slowly give way before a familiar ripping sensation and the weed pulled away with a few thick broken roots. Catra growled and threw the plant to one side sending an arc of dirt into the air.

“Better,” said Micah. “You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“Better?” she sneered. “At this rate you’re going to have to dig up your whole garden to get all the roots out.”

Micah shrugged. “The weeds will pop back up again and give us another shot even if we miss them this time. You can’t expect to be perfect at something the first time you try it.”

Catra stared at the dirt.

“Let me guess,” Micah said. “The Horde wasn’t too forgiving on the subject of failed first attempts.”

Catra ignored him and pulled at another weed. It seemed more deeply entrenched in the ground as she wiggled at it. She shoved down the urge to rip this one out and instead extended a claw into the dirt to break up some of the hard ground around the weed. There was a sudden giveaway and the majority of the plant seemed to come free with only a few of the smaller roots broken at the edge.

“Nice,” said Micah. “You work here, I’m going to head over to the tomatoes. Just shout if you need help.”

“Oh help, Micah, the plants are attacking me,” Catra mocked, pulling another weed that came up surprisingly easily. She regarded it with a look of surprise.

“Well as long as your biting sarcasm is intact, I think we will be okay,” Micah said with a chuckle as he hoisted himself to his feet and moved toward a different part of the garden with large green vines draped over wooden frames.

Catra worked her way down the rows of carrots, clearing away everything except for the carrot stalks. A few times she grew frustrated again, cursing or throwing broken weeds or, once, a carrot she had pulled up by mistake. Micah ignored her and by the time she reached the end of the row she was starting to find the gentle give of the weeds coming free sort of satisfying. She was taken by surprise when Micah’s hand touched her shoulder.

“It’s getting dark,” he said. “We should go inside for some supper.”

Catra jerked back to herself and was surprised to hear her stomach let out a low rumble. Micah helped her to her feet and handed her the walking stick, but she found as she moved that she scarcely needed it. She leaned on it heavily when Micah looked in her direction and made her way back into the cabin.

***

Catra dreamed.

She is back in the Fright Zone sitting on the bottom bunk with a blanket wrapped around her. She’s not crying but she can feel that deep ache in her chest that was a familiar marker of a run in with Shadow Weaver.

She hears a noise and looks up just in time to see a blond ponytail disappear around the corner.

“Adora?” she calls, jumping up and giving chase.

She rounds the corner only to see Adora disappear into another corridor.

“Adora, wait!” But this time she is facing an empty hallway when she rounds the corner.

“Did you think she would wait around for you?”

Catra jumps and whirls to see Shadow Weaver standing behind her, arms crossed over her chest.

“Adora has more important things than to wait for her needy little pet to get over herself.” Shadow Weaver leans down close. “Were you _crying_ again? Pathetic. Get back to training. You’re late.”

The next thing she knows Catra is standing in the locker room alone. There is laughter coming from outside the door and she thinks she can pick out the familiar lilt of Adora’s giggle. The door swings open and the cadets stream in. Catra searches frantically for Adora’s blond pouf, but she can’t see her anywhere. She turns back to her locker and catches sight of Adora sitting on the bench pulling off her boots.

Catra slinks up beside her. “Not even going to say hi, princess?”

Adora treats her to a withering look. “I don’t know what you expected. You let us down again today.”

“I….”

“Save it Catra. I have to study.”

Adora stands to walk away.

“Wait!” Catra reaches out and grabs Adora’s shoulder and suddenly the scenery has changed in they are standing in the Whispering Woods.

“Wait!?” Adora jerks her arm from Catra’s grasp. “Why should I wait for you? You never waited for me. You never did anything for me! You whine and cry about how unfair everything was and how badly you were treated but we both know you deserved it. Maybe if you’d actually _tried_ once in a while I wouldn’t have had to leave.”

“I…I tried,” Catra stammers. She can’t seem to get ahead of swelling pain in her gut. “I _did_ try. Shadow Weaver….”

“Shadow Weaver values strength. She was hard on you because you’re so damn weak, Catra. She had no choice.”

“No….” Tears are starting to spill over. _Stop,_ Catra thinks. _You don’t cry like this. Not in front of people. Not in front of _Adora.

“Ugh, look at you.” Adora’s face is full of disgust. “What a waste.” She turns and walks away.

Catra takes a step to go after her but her knees give out and she falls to the forest floor sobbing.

Catra woke up. Her cheeks were damp. She pushed to sit herself up and found it remarkably easy with both legs working. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She pressed her aching eyes against her knees and sat like that for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I have put way to much thought into the mechanics of Spinder venom. Catra is lucky she's larger than their usual prey and it stung her pretty far down the leg.  
2\. Everything I know about Magicat lore I learned from fanfiction.  
3\. I might overdo it with the whole "Horde doesn't have nice things" trope but I enjoy Catra's confusion in the face of soup.  
4\. Micah made his cabin to accommodate one person (himself) and a squirrel. He build it largely with magic and there is a ward around the property to keep out the big beasts. He's been letting Catra sleep on the bed while he sleeps on a bed roll on the floor. Of course it hasn't occurred to Catra that maybe she should give him his bed back now that her legs are working better. She's a little self-centered like that.  
5\. I know nothing of gardening. Feel free to correct me if that's not what you do with carrots. Actually, just tell me what you would do that with because I like weeding therapy for Catra too much.  
6\. Scorpia and Entrapta will eventually get to be something other than comic relief and pacing, I swear


	3. The Ghost By My Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific trigger warnings at the end.

“I think the signal has been shifting this entire time!” Entrapta studied her tracker pad. “It must operate under similar properties to the Whispering Woods, although in this case it doesn’t seem like the jungle is moving so much as certain structures within the jungle that give off very strong First One signals.”

They were gathered around a small fire in a clearing a few miles from where they had run into the bee’s nest. They had been relatively lucky; Scorpia had three stings and Entrapta had escaped with just one on her ankle. After that she had agreed to set up camp for the night and continue their quest for the First One’s signal in the morning.

“Fantastic,” said Scorpia, poking the fire with a long stick. The sting on her neck ached.

“It appears we are about five miles off at this point, but I have adjusted my calculations slightly in hopes of accounting for the movements.”

Scorpia sighed as her stomach growled. “I don’t suppose that thing can give us any information on where to find some sort of food product other than berries. I’m fairly certain that a diet exclusively berries is not going to be very healthy.”

“Oh, that would be useful. Maybe I can design something once we get back to the Fright Zone!”

Scorpia looked up. “Once we get back to…. Entrapta, what do you think we’re _doing_ here?”

“Looking for the First One’s tech on Beast Island.”

“No…I mean…do you think that Hordak sent us here? For a mission?”

Entrapta’s eyes darted from Scorpia’s face to the fire and back again. “No. I mean, I know that Catra was mad about me not wanting to activate the portal because of the whole ‘possibly could destroy all of time and space’ thing. And I heard that Beast Island is supposed to be some sort of Horde prison, so I guess being sent here makes me a prisoner. Oh! And then you came along to keep me company. Which maybe means you are a prisoner too, although I don’t know what you did to anger Catra. It seems pretty easy to do these days. But now we’re here and this island is full of mysteries so, I figure, why dwell on the whole ‘prisoner’ thing. I mean I started out as a prisoner of the Horde in the first place and that turned out to be great!”

The stick snapped in Scorpia’s claw.

“We are _here_ because Catra sent you to your _death_! Don’t you get it? Beast Island is not a place you come _back_ from. It’s a place you get sent and then you are never. Heard. From. Again!”

Scorpia stood up and threw her stick into the fire. “We’re not _going_ back to the Fright Zone.  
she shouted, towering over Entrapta who just stared up at her with wide eyes. “You are not going to bring Hordak a treasure trove of First One’s tech! The most likely thing that is going to happen to us is that we are both going to be eaten by something huge and mean and everyone we ever knew or cared about is going to think we were _traitors._ And I….” Scorpia sniffed as tears started to leak out of her eyes.

“I came with you because what Catra did was _wrong_ and I…I know she would have realized that eventually, but she was so angry…. And I wanted to protect you but now I’m going to _die_ out here and you don’t even _care._ All you care about is your precious _tech.”_ Scopria sank back down and buried her head and her claws.

There was silence except for Scorpia’s ragged sobs and the quiet crackling of the fire. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I…I never really had any friends other than my robots until recently,” said Entrapta softly. “I’m not very good at being a friend myself—too many parameters—but I do know that you are a very good friend, Scorpia. According to my calculations, you are my best friend, actually.”

Scorpia sniffed and turned her head to the side to look at Entrapta.

“I do know that this is dangerous and that you gave up a lot to come with me. I’m sorry if I made you feel taken for granted. I thought that if I could find this signal maybe I could find something that would help us out here but…maybe I’ve been a little too fixated. I tend to do that.” She gave a little laugh. “My robots never really cared enough to call me on it.”

Scorpia took a shaky breath. “Yeah I….” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “That makes sense Entrapta. I…uh…I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“That’s okay!” Entraptra said. “I do better if you tell me things plainly. Not as many parameters to navigate.”

Scorpia nodded. “In that case…I need a break. We have been walking for days and I don’t have mechanical hair to help me out. And we need more food and water. Perhaps we could camp here tonight and tomorrow, find some more supplies and….”

Scorpia was cut off by a low growl coming from behind them.

“Uh…Entrapta?”

“Yes? You were saying? More supplies….” Entrapta had her tracker pad out, goggles down and was typing with her hair.

“Remember what I said about us most likely being eaten by something very large?”

Entrapta looked up. “I do.”

“That may be happening much sooner than I had hoped.” The statement was punctuated by another low growl.

They turned slowly. At first all Scorpia could see was blackness and underbrush, but the fire flared and suddenly they could see the glint off two golden eyes peering at them through the darkness.

The growl became louder as a large creature stepped into view. In addition to the yellow eyes, it was covered in pitch-dark fur with long tusks and a rope of saliva dripping from its mouth.

In unison Scorpia and Entrapa were both on their feet backing away slowly as the creature stalked forward.

“We need to run,” hissed Scorpia.

“It’s going to catch us,” Entrapta said, voice high pitched.

“Definitely. But what choice do we have. On the count of three. One…two…THREE!” Scorpia turned to run, one arm reaching to grab at Entrapta but finding empty air. Scorpia turned back just in time to watch Entrapta rushing forward.

“Entrapta, no!” shouted Scorpia as Entrapta launched herself toward the beast using her hair as a springboard.

“You stay back!” Entrapta shouted as she fell toward the creature. One hand shot out, wielding the bag of data crystals like a slingshot, smacking against the top of the animal’s snout.

To Scorpia’s shock the creature let out a loud whimper and broke off its attack, falling to the side.

Entrapta managed to steer herself with her hair and three-point landed facing the retreating beast and looking (Scorpia had to admit it) pretty badass.

The beast ran off whimpering into the woods.

“Entrapta that was amazing!” Scorpia ran toward her and scooped her up into a hug. “How did you know that was going to work?”

“I didn’t!” said Entrapta. “As a rule, I would prefer not to make calculations based on so little data, but from what I could figure the odds of fighting seemed better than running. Although I have to admit that was _way _more effective than I expected.”

“You’re telling me.” Scorpia set her down on the ground. “Any idea what just happened?”

Entrapta looked at the small pouch in her hand. “It seems that the beast was responding to the First One’s tech in a negative fashion. I would need more experiments to determine if this is effective for all of the beings on this island or if was only the one we just encountered. I am also not certain if there is a specific data crystal in this collection that was effective or if it was the large quantity I have collected. Perhaps with further analysis I could determine….”

“Okay ‘Trapta…how about if we revisit that idea tomorrow while we have some down time?’

“Down time!” Entrapta raised herself up on her hair to be eye to eye with Scorpia. “This is all the more reason to find the central First One’s technology stash as soon as possible. Now that we have a safe means of travel, we could leave tonight and....” She paused and studied Scorpia’s face for a moment. “I mean…right! Down time. Analysis, tomorrow!”

“And then on to the First One’s stash the day after,” agreed Scorpia with a relieved sigh.

***

“What is it?” Catra asked, taking the leather object in one hand.

“It’s a book,” said Micah. He looked pained. “I take it you didn’t have books in the Fright Zone?”

Catra shook her head. “What do you do with it?”

“You read it. Oh! I didn’t even ask if you can read.”

Catra scowled at him. “I can read. We had plenty of things we needed to read in the Horde. Like duty rosters and troop rotations and battle maneuvers. And there were like…pamphlets about the Fright Zone and the Horde.”

“In other parts of Etheria, people use writing to tell stories. Sometimes they were true stories about history and sometimes they were untrue stories that were just told for fun.”

Catra raised her eyebrows. “Untrue stories told for fun.”

“No one even told stories in the Fright Zone.” The line between his eyebrows grew deeper.

“We told stories,” Catra muttered. “I was just never into all the spooky princess tales. Adora was the one who ate that shit up.”

“If you don’t like it you can just stop reading it. But I thought it might give you something else to do while I’m working. There are only so many weeds in the garden.”

Catra felt her cheeks heat and she looked down at the tome in front of her. Once she had gotten the hang of gardening it had become difficult for Micah to get her back indoors. She found a weird satisfaction in lifting the weeds out of the dirt and had developed her claw-trowel method in a way that extracted even the most stubborn of root systems without breakage.

She had also dispensed with the walking stick in the past day. Micah had yet to comment on her new mobility and Catra hadn’t brought up leaving again.

“This book is written about the world of the Princesses, so there may be some things you don’t recognize as you go through. But just ask if you run into anything too peculiar.”

Catra opened it to the first page. “The Cat Queen,” she read. She raised an eyebrow at Micah who grinned.

“I thought this might give you a bit of an idea of what Magicat society was like, even though the events are made up. Don’t worry, there are plenty of action scenes. A little romance too.” He wigged his eyebrows and grinned. Catra rolled her eyes.

Micah stood. “I have some work to do. You can tell me what your thoughts are later this afternoon.”

Catra watched Micah disappear into the side room. A moment later that familiar, unsettling white light started to leak through the slats of the doorway. Catra sighed and opened the book to the first page.

She read for the better part of an hour and had to admit that for all the times she rolled her eyes at colorful descriptions of jungle castles built high in the trees and bizarre customs, the story was much more engrossing than any battle maneuvers she had read about.

She was eventually interrupted by Fredrich who had chosen to perch near his nest and chitter at her.

Catra sighed and closed the book. “You know I can’t understand you like Micah can,” she told him. “All you ever do is get my hackles up.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if Fredrich could understand her, but he chittered again and held something up in the air.

It was the remote to call back the Horde ship.

“You little _shit!_” shouted Catra and lunged toward him.

Fredrich chittered and dashed across the network of shelves. Catra, clumsy after so long without full use of her limbs, careened into the wall, missing him. She growled, tail twitching, and gave in fully to the instinct to track and pounce.

Fredrich dashed across the floor. Catra followed him with her eyes trying to anticipate where he would go. She saw him aiming for the rack of cookware and sprang after. He dodged just in time and made a break for the closed door of the work room where Micah had gone. Catra could see a squirrel-sized hole a few inches from the floor where the door met the hinge.

“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered. This time she leaped ahead of his path and slapped one paw down beside creature.

Fredrick let out a squeak, dropped the remote and leapt over her paw, narrowly escaping through a hole in the floor just under the bed.

Catra sat back against the side-room door panting feeling both embarrassed and triumphant. She turned the remote over in her hand. Her finger brushed over the single button in the center. She imagined pushing it, right now, sitting on the floor of Micah’s cabin. The boat would show up. No Catra or Entrapta to be found. And then it would leave; no second chances. No going back.

_Why would we go back? _Catra could hear Scorpia’s voice in her head. _Let’s stay here. Forget Hordak. Forget Adora. Forget all of them. We could, you know…be happy._

The light from behind the door flared up again and reflected off the metal of the remote. Catra felt her stomach turn and her finger slid off the remote’s trigger. She twisted around and saw a small gap between the slats of the door.

She shouldn’t.

But then again when had Catra ever done what she should.

She pressed her face against the door and peered through the gap.

At first all she saw was light. She squinted and wondered if the reason she felt so unsettled was because this reminded her of the She-Ra transformations. Then her vision cleared. She could see Micah standing over a large bowl with his arms stretched up in front of him. From her angle on the floor she couldn’t see the contents of the bowl, but she could see a light pattern rising from it. She watched his hands forming intricate patterns in the air as lines of light emitted from his fingers and drifted to join the circular design. In the very center was a clear blue crystal that glowed brighter and dimmer in a slow pulse. Just beyond it was the ghostly outline of a person with long hair looking out over a cliff.

Catra let out a yelp and threw herself backwards from the door, crashing into the chair. It fell to ghe ground with a loud bang.

The glow behind the door abruptly stopped and a moment later the door swung open.

“If you need something else to do at least go into the garden and leave poor Fredrich…Catra?” Micah stopped when he saw her. Catra was crouched beside the fallen chair, eyes wide, muscles locked in place, the fur on the tip of her tail standing on end.

“Catra, are you okay?” He held up one hand and Catra jumped backward again, skidding into a defensive position.

“I saw,” she hissed. “I saw what you were doing in there.”

“Saw what I was…?”

“You’re like _her_,” she hissed. “How did I miss it? What do you _want_ with me?”

“Catra, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you talking about?”

“Shadow Weaver!” Catra shouted. “I know what sorcery looks like!”

Micah froze, arm still outstretched toward her. “Wait,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”

“And what do I think, Micah?” Catra shouted, horrified to wetness springing to her eyes. She squeezed her hands into fists and realized she was still clutching the remote. She had almost just…. “What could I possibly think watching you do magic just _like_ her.”

“It’s not like her. Catra, please! I…it’s complicated. I’m not _like_ her. Just let me explain.”

He took a step forward and Catra immediately moved backwards, scrambling up onto the table, crouching with one hand outstretched, claws unsheathed.

“Don’t you dare get near me!” She turned and started to run toward the door. It wasn’t until her hand touched the knob that she realized she had been bracing for the familiar cold sensation of magic freezing her muscles into place.”

Instead Micah shouted, “I’m sorry! I never meant to lie to you. I was going to explain once I thought you would stay long enough to hear me out. I didn’t want to let you down again!”

Catra paused, gripping the handle. 

“Again?”

She looked back at Micah and was shocked by the expression on his face. Not the anger or fear or disappointment she expected. He looked…sad.

“This isn’t the first time our paths have crossed, Catra. You…wouldn’t remember—it was a very long time ago—but I…I will never forget it.”

Catra let her hand slip from the doorknob.

“Why should I trust you?” she asked.

Micah shrugged. “I don’t know if you should or could. But just…hear me out? I won’t lie to you anymore. About anything. And if you want to leave after you hear everything…well, I won’t stop you.”

Catra looked back toward the door. She stared at the wood grain, the cracks between the slats.

Her other hand was still clutching the remote. For a moment Catra couldn’t breathe. She reached for the door and turned the knob.

“Please?”

_Catra please! You don’t have to do this._

Catra released the doorknob and walked over to the bed. She sat herself cross legged on the grass-stuffed mattress and pointed to the chair across the room.

“You stay there. Tell me your story. Don’t come close to me. Don’t even start to do any magic or I’m gone, and I’ll probably rip your face open on my way out. Don’t test me; I’ve done it before.”

Micah nodded and sank down into the chair.

“It’s a long story,” he started.

***

“I guess I should start with the woman you know as Shadow Weaver. When I met her, she was known as Light Spinner and she was one of the most powerful sorcerers in Mystacor. I was a young student there and I admired her above all my other teachers. She recognized some talent in me and after a great deal of pestering she took me on as her apprentice. I was so flattered; she had this way of making her favored students feel like they were at the center of the universe. But I take it you know something about that?”

Catra scowled down at her hands. “Not from personal experience.”

“Adora?” Micah asked. Catra eyes shot up. “You talk in your sleep sometimes.”

“This isn’t about me,” snapped Catra. Micah nodded.

“I was willing to do whatever she said to stay in her favor. Frequently that involved bending or sometimes outright breaking rules of the academy. Light Spinner always felt that she was underrecognized for her skills and at the time I thought she might have had a point. I guess in retrospect the masters recognized a hunger for power that I missed. Or…shared.

“One day she went too far. She used me to help her tap into a spell she had no business using and it backfired. The spell…it changed her somehow, scarred her face and turned her into whatever it was that became Shadow Weaver. She was cast out of Mystacor, cut off from magic and the masters told me that she was gone forever. They agreed to let me complete my training under heavy supervision after that. I wanted to put the whole thing behind me, but I always suspected she wouldn’t have just faded away like that.

“Light Spinner…Shadow Weaver was wrong about a lot of thing in Mystacor, but she did recognize that the masters were too passive when it came to bigger threats to Etheria. They expected the outside world to take care of itself. But with the Horde starting to eat up kingdoms, I couldn’t just stand by. When I completed my training, I left Mystacor and joined the rebellion. I met my wife. We had a child together, a baby girl.” Micah smiled for a moment before clearing his throat. “And together we fought against the Horde.”

“This is all nauseatingly pure, but maybe we could skip ahead a bit?” Catra interrupted.

Micah rolled his eyes but continued. “All the kingdoms have different protections, but the lands closest to the Fright Zone were the most vulnerable to the Horde. We lost ground fast before we created the Alliance and it was all we could do just to hold the line.

“One day we got the call from Half Moon, the kingdom of the Magicats.” Catra’s ear twitched. “I lead the troops as part of our aid effort, but when we got there it was already too late.

“The people of Half Moon…they were a proud people. They refused to surrender, even when the battle was clearly hopeless. I think perhaps they were holding out hope that reinforcements would arrive in time but…. When we got there the jungle kingdom was on fire and the few survivors were making a last stand or fleeing. We tried to join the fight but the Horde had already taken the castle as a stronghold, so it was as though we were the invaders. We never stood a chance.

“In the midst of the battle there was a break in the fighting, and I turned to see a familiar figure moving across the battleground. I don’t know how I recognized her—she looked so different from the woman I knew from Mystacor—but I knew immediately it was her. Light Spinner, now fully Shadow Weaver. She had something in her arms, thrown partly over one shoulder and when she turned, I could see it was a person. A Magicat child, maybe two years old, with a brown mane, grey tufts, and two mismatched eyes, one yellow and one blue.

“I pointed my staff at her head and shouted for her to stop. She did and turned to face me.

“She recognized me immediately, which threw me off guard. She looked so different I almost expected her to be a different person. But she spoke to me with the same affection she always had.

“I told her to put down the child and surrender. She laughed and told me the fight was over and I should go back home. I had a clear shot. One blast and it would have been over. I couldn’t save the rest of the kingdom, but I could save this one child and rid the word of Shadow Weaver forever.” He cast his eyes downward.

“But I couldn’t do it. I hesitated too long and, in that time, she was able to summon the power to freeze me in place. I thought she was going to kill me right then, but she walked up and stroked my cheek just like she used to do when I was her pupil. She told me it would be a waste to take my life and that the time we had worked together still meant so much to her.

“She took my staff and left me for the soldiers to tie me up. I watched her float away, unable to move or look another direction. But the clearest memory I have is watching those two mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, blinking at me over her shoulder as she faded into the smoke.”

Catra didn’t say anything for a minute and continued to stare at the floor. Finally, she sighed.

“You’re lying,” she stated.

“I swear, I’m not,” Micah said. “I…I did lie you before, but just about how I found you. I wasn’t just wandering through the woods in the middle of the night. I saw your boat land and I recognized you. I had Fredrich follow you and warn me when you were in danger. But everything else I told you is true.”

Catra shook her head. “Why would Shadow Weaver take a child from a battle? She never even _went_ to the battles. And the only wards she raised were me and…Adora. And Adora was _special._” She sneered through the word. “She hated me.”

“I…have my theories on that front,” said Micah. “Light Spinner only ever gave attention to the trainees she thought were the most naturally gifted. Generally, children from magical pedigrees. She used to talk about how the greatest potential student would be the offspring of a sorcerer and a royal. Able to channel sorcery with the power of a runestone.”

Catra snorted. “Well she miscalculated there if she thought that was what she was getting by kidnapping me.”

“It was a miscalculation. You are not a princess…”

“Obviously.” Catra rolled her eyes.

“…but the daughter of the Magicat queen did, in fact, have a sorcerer for a father. And she would have just turned 2 years old at the Battle of Half Moon.”

He paused as Catra put the pieces together. “She thought I was the princess.” It suddenly seemed harder to breathe. “You think she took me expecting I would be her next protégé and then…what, found out I was just normal?” Her voice kept seeming to climb in pitch without her permission. She could almost hear Shadow Weaver’s voice in her head. _If you ever do anything to jeopardize Adora’s future, I will dispose of you myself. _“She…that’s why she….” Catra was gasping now. “She hated me. All. Because I was….” She grabbed at her throat. “I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

Micah leaned forward in the chair.

“Don’t,” Catra shouted, one hand on her chest, the other pointing a claw in his direction. “Stay there.” She sucked in short bursts of air barely able to get the words out. “What. Did you do. To me,” she gasped.

“It’s not me,” said Micah. “You’re having a panic attack. Just…concentrate on your breathing.”

“What. Does it. Look like I’m. Doing,” Catra growled. Her head was swimming. _I will dispose of you myself_, she could hear the words on a loop in her mind. _Dispose of you. _“No!” Her lips felt numb.

“Catra! Listen to me!” She could barely hear him over the roaring in her hears. “You need to focus on something else. Think about a part of your body. Your left foot. Think about your left foot.”

Catra shot him an incredulous look.

“It helps, I promise. Just focus on your left foot. Don’t think about your breathing, think about your foot and your toes and your ankle.”

Catra forced her mind to focus on her left foot. She wigged her toes and extended her claws in and out. She rolled her ankle in a circle.

“Now your right foot.”

Catra shifted her attention to her right foot and did the same. There was still a small pain in her lower calf from where the spinder had stung her. She focused on that sensation until the roaring in her ears seemed to subside.

“Better?”

Catra opened her eyes, only then realizing she had closed them in the first place. Her breathing was calmer although the staccato rhythm of her heart was still going strong. She met Micah’s warm, concerned eyes.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I think it was your body’s response to…what I told you. It happens. When I first came here, I used to have panic attacks all the time. It took me a long time to learn how to break them. I usually just go from body part to body part, starting with my feet and moving up gradually. I focus on each one for a second and at some point, I’ve distracted myself enough from the panic that I can function again. How do you feel?”

Catra thought about her answer for a long moment.

“Exhausted,” she said. “I can’t…I can’t think about this anymore.”

Micah nodded.

“I meant what I said. If you choose to leave, I won’t stop you. But please stay for tonight? It’s dark and the jungle is so much more dangerous at night.”

Catra nodded, too tired to argue. She felt so raw and wrung out. She tilted to her side until she was lying horizontally on the bed.

Micah looked on and gave a half smile. He pointed down at the chair where he sat. “Do you mind if I?”

Catra almost laughed. She felt too weak to fight Fredrich right now. “Go ahead,” she said with a little gesture in his direction. Micah stood up and pushed the chair in.

Catra rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, the little knots and whorls of the wood grain. She blinked her eyes and it felt so heavy to open them again. She closed her eyes again and almost instantly she was asleep.

***

Catra dreamed.

She is in the prison cell with Shadow Weaver, on her knees, arms wrapped around bare shoulders. Shadow Weaver reaches out toward her cheek. Catra flinches but lets her cup the side of her face gently in one hand.

“I will admit I was hard on you,” says Shadow Weaver. “But can you blame me?”

The grip of her face tightens, and nail-tips dig into the skin of her jawline.

“You’re hurting me,” Catra whispers. She can’t pull away.

“You were never anything but a burden to the Horde. Another mouth to feed. And yet I kept you around. For what? Certainly not for your gratitude.”

The nails dig deeper. Catra thinks she can feel blood dripping down her cheek. “You never gave me a chance….”

“Silence! I should have disposed of you the moment I learned your true nature. It would have spared us all a lot of grief.”

Catra forces herself to look up at Shadow Weaver’s expressionless mask. “Then why didn’t you?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Because of me.”

Catra’s eyes focus behind Shadow Weaver as Adora steps into view. She rests one hand on Shadow Weaver’s shoulder.

“I was the only one who ever wanted you. I was the only one who ever protected you.”

“You should have let me _die_,” Catra spits.

Adora gives her a sad smile. “I probably should have.”

Catra woke up with tears streaming down her cheeks.

The cabin was dark and quiet aside from the soft snores coming from the bed roll on the floor.

Catra stood up slowly and padded over to where Micah was sleeping and sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him. She studied his face; brow relaxed so the crevices of his forehead were smoothed to thin lines. There were speckles of grey in his pitch-black hair, thickest around the temples and scattered through the coarse beard. His breathing was slow and measured, giving a faint nasal snore as he breathed in and the slow puff of air as he breathed out again.

Catra put her hand in the top of his head and the breathing shallowed out suddenly.

A second later Micah inhaled suddenly, and his eyes shot open.

“C…Catra?”

“I have this memory,” said Catra. Then she paused. Micah waited and said nothing. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“I think it might be my first memory, but things are so jumbled from the early years. I remember Shadow Weaver taking me into a room and sitting me down on bunk. She stroked my hair and cupped my cheek and told me that this was my home now and she would take care of me. She told me we would do great things together. And then she called Adora over and I saw this chubby little blond thing who was one big smile. She took my hand and I felt…safe. Maybe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that again.”

Catra reaches up to touch one of tufts of hair by her ear. “If what you said was true that must have been when she still thought I was some…Princess-Mage or something. I don’t know how soon after that she gave up on me. But I never really forgot that feeling. Even long after I stopped trying to get it back.”

Micah struggled himself into a sitting position.

“She does have that effect on people,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep.

Catra clenched one fist and glared at the ground. “It doesn’t change _anything_,” she said. “I knew she was cruel; I knew she was unfair. I knew I was better than she ever gave me credit for. Why do I _still_ care what she thinks?”

Micah put his hand over her fist and squeezed lightly. “She was your mother for all intents and purposes. I don’t think you can logic away the importance of that person in your life. No matter how terrible she was.”

Catra looked up at him. “If you could go back…if you could have a second chance. To kill her. Would you do it?”

Micah stared and their joined hands for a long minute before answering. “I don’t know.”

Catra sighed and slumped. “Yeah me neither.”

“I think about it all the time,” Micah admitted. “I wonder if she was ever genuine—if she ever really cared about doing the right thing and protecting people—or if it was always just about power. I know she manipulated me but…sometimes I wonder if she knew that was what she was doing. I wonder how much of who she is today is because of her corrupted magic and how much was just who she would always have become when Mystacor wasn’t enough. I wonder if she ever really loved me, or just saw me as a tool to greater power.”

“Why is it so hard to just hate her?” asked Catra.

Micah put an arm over Catra’s shoulder. “You don’t have to hate her. Or love her. You just have to find a way to love yourself despite her.”

Catra sniffed and wiped a tear from one eye. “That’s a nauseating sentiment.”

“Don’t deflect,” said Micah. “It’s true.”

Catra sighed. “If nothing else it seems like a project that will require a little more sleep,” she muttered.

Micah chuckled. “Fair enough. Go back to bed, kitten. We will talk more tomorrow.”

Catra stood and padded across the room back to the bed. She paused before climbing in but didn’t look at Micah. “I guess this means I’m staying.”

“Glad to hear it. The place would be too quiet without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for Catra having a panic attack and PTSD flashbacks. Some mild descriptions of child abuse. Nothing too far outside the scope of the show.
> 
> 1\. Entrapta and Scorpia finally get some character development, hooray! Also, a convenient explanation as to why they are not going to end up as Spinder food without Micah around to rescue them.  
2\. Let’s not think too hard about how Micah has books on Beast Island and just go with “shipwreck” for now  
3\. I imagine Catra saw Shadow Weaver casting enough spells using the Black Garnet as a focus, not to mention seeing the pattern that created the SW hologram at the end of season 2, to recognize that Micah is using a similar sort of spellcasting. And I doubt she would have any reference for that type of magic beyond SW.  
4\. Controversial opinion, but I am not a fan of the “Catra is actually a Magicat princess” theory. I’m sure if that’s what Crew-Ra has planned it will be phenomenal, but I feel like Catra’s core struggle is to accept herself without needing external validation. Finding out she is secretly a magic princess sort of invalidates that struggle. Adora’s core character struggle is with sharing responsibility and accepting help, which was only made more interesting by finding out she was She-ra.  
5\. Shadow Weaver sent Micah’s staff back to Bright Moon as proof that he had been killed. Dramatic but a tactical error. Just her style.  
6\. I think one of the amazing parts of the show is how well they convey the conflict inherent in parental abuse/neglect. Both Catra and Adora know that Shadow Weaver is manipulative and cruel and yet neither of them have been able to extract themselves from her emotionally. They each have moments where they seem to disavow her and yet both end up getting sucked back in. It's so realistic and painful I just love it. ::chef kiss::


	4. Burning Down the Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Similar trigger warnings to the last chapter.

“This is it, huh?” Scorpia ran a hand along the smooth stone at the side of the pyramid that had seemingly just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the jungle. “Entrapta?” she said when there was no reply. She turned and saw the other woman staring at the monument with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“I have been looking for this my entire life,” whispered Entrapta.

“Ooookay.” Scorpia stepped back a bit and looked up toward the vanishing point at the top of the building. “But how do we get in?”

“I don’t know!” exclaimed Entrapta. “But I am going to find out!” She plopped down on the ground and started typing furiously into her tracker pad.

After a few minutes Scorpia got tired watching her and decided to wander around the base of the structure. The surface was a smooth, glass-like polished stone that seemed carved into intricate patterns that fit together with only the faintest of gaps. Scorpia had the sense that from distance the shapes might form together into a coherent image or words but this close she couldn’t really make out much.

She had almost finished her circuit when she heard Entrapta shout “I’ve got it!” and there was a sound of stone grinding against stone. Scorpia ran around the corner just in time to see Entrapta about to step through a doorway that had just opened in the side of the structure.

“Entrapta, wait!”

Entrapta paused and waved at Scorpia before disappearing through the opening.

“You will be the end of me, woman!” Scorpia muttered, starting to jog forward as the sound of grinding started up again and the rock began to shift and close.

“I hope you have a plan for getting out of here!” Scorpia shouted as she dove forward, sliding through the contracting entrance moments before it sealed up again.

Inside it is pitch black aside from the glow from Entrapta’s tracker pad. Scorpia follows the faint light forward until she nearly knocks Entrapta over at the entrance to a large circular chamber.

Entrapta has the same look on her face as she did outside the ruin; wide eyes and utter joy.

“I take it this was what you were looking for?”

“I have no idea!” Scorpia winced at the volume. “I can’t wait to find out!” Entrapta ran forward to the center of the room and once again settled herself on the floor, eyes focused on the tracker pad. Scorpia sighed and decided to do her own exploration.

The chamber was almost 200 feet in diameter, again made of that strange smooth stone material with networks of interweaving lines forming intricate patterns. Scorpia made her way to the edge of the circle to try to get a better look at the whole pattern, but she still couldn’t seem to get a great view. She glanced around and saw a short flight of stairs up on an overhang on the opposite side of the circle.

“Sure, why not,” she muttered and made her way across the room. She shot a backwards glance to where Entrapta still sat, furiously typing, and made her way up the staircase.

From this vantage point she could easily see the pattern on the chamber floor. It appeared to be an intricate series of circles surrounding a large figure with a winged helm and holding a large sword.

“Of course,” muttered Scorpia. “More She-ra.”

Turning around she was met without another relief in the wall behind the staircase she had just climbed up. This did not seem to form any figure, just concentric ovals one inside the other, in places overlapping. Smaller circles sat at irregular intervals on the larger lines. At the center was a large circular yellow crystal.

“Hey Entrapta,” Scorpia called. “I think I found one of those data-crystal-y things you like so much!” She stuck a claw into the indentation on the side of the gem and managed to wedge it free. The crystal popped free, but immediately slipped free of her pinchers. She juggled it for a second before managing to catch it balanced on her outstretched arms.

“Don’t touch anything,” she heard Entrapta shout back to her. “This place has a pretty robust security system.”

“Uh…too late?”

Suddenly, the chamber went dark. The lines forming the patterns on the walls and floor glowed an ominous red.

“Uh, Entrapta?”

“Time to go!” came the response from below.

Scorpia was already moving toward the stairs back down to the first floor, but the passageway was pitch black. She reached her arms out blindly, claw grazing the edge of the chamber wall. Her foot tripped over the top of the first step and she pitched forward into the darkness, barely catching herself before falling face first into….

Eyes. Pinpoints of bright white flicked into view in front of Scorpia and seem to float toward her in the darkness. She scrambles backwards back up the stairs.

“Entrapta! I’m stuck!”

“Get to the landing!”

Scorpia ran out to the area overlooking the main chamber and looked down. She winced. It was maybe a 15 foot drop down, definitely a risk of a broken leg.

She turned around and yelped as she saw the eyes had formed themselves into spider-creatures that were rushing toward her.

"Jump!” shouted Entrapta from below.

“Easy for you to say,” Scorpia called back, leaning back against the balcony as one of the spider legs reached out to swipe at her.

A purple tendril appeared suddenly and snaked around her torso, plucking her off the landing just as the spider launched a ropey web in her direction.

Entrapta’s hair set Scorpia down beside the other princess.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Scorpia asked, seizing Entrapta’s shoulders.

“With science!” Entrapta said with a giggle and started typing on the tracker pad again.

“Uh…’Trapta? I don’t think now is quite the time for an experiment?” The spider creatures had made their way down the and a swarm of beetle looking creatures were coming from a separate staircase on the other side of the chamber.

“Not an experiment,” said Entrapta as she continued to type furiously. “A failsafe!”

Suddenly the floor below them opened.

“Wuaaaaaah!” shouted Scorpia, grabbing for Entrapta as they both fell straight down a hidden hatch in the floor that seconds ago has been a relief of the tip of She-Ra’s sword.

They fell only about a foot before hitting a chute and starting to slide.

“Entrapta! Where is this taking us?”

“Outside! Hopefully! Also, possibly to the basement.”

“What’s in the basement?”

“I don’t know! But I would guess more security drones.”

Scorpia clung to Entrapta and prayed to Hordak that they would not be exploring a whole new part of this death trap. Thankfully the chute spat them out of the side of the pyramid and onto the jungle floor.

“Ugh,” said Scorpia, rolling onto her side and then slowly clambering to her feet. “Are you okay, Entrapta? That was a rough landing.”

“No injuries here! And this tracker pad has certainly been through worse.” Entrapta held up the device and gave it a gentle pat.

Scorpia looked up at the pyramid and…it was gone?

“What? Where did…?”

“I told you, it moves. I think we probably triggered a protective migration algorithm by messing with the tech inside.”

“Oh, Entrapta! I’m so sorry!” Scorpia sank down onto her knees. “I ruined everything.” She buried her head in her claws.

“What are you talking about? This was fantastic!”

“I touched something when I shouldn’t have and now the whole First One’s ruin is _gone_. I screwed up and now all of the technology you wanted is lost!”

“Don’t be silly,” said Entrapta, tabbing through something on the screen of the tablet. “That much First One’s tech is too complicated even for me to analyze in one sitting. I managed to download more than enough to keep me busy for months!”

Scorpia sighed. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

Entrapta paused, one finger hovering in the hair over the tracker pad. “Why would I say things to make you feel better?” she asked, curiously.

Scorpia opened her mouth to explain but then paused and laughed.

“You know you were wrong, ‘Trapta.”

“I highly doubt that. I miscalculate from time to time but is usually based on sound….”

“No, I mean you’re a pretty good friend. Thank you for saving me in there.”

Entrapta beamed at her. “You are welcome, Scorpia! Also thank you for this!” She held up the yellow data crystal with one hair tentacle, eyes wide and shining with excitement. “Oh, the things you and I will be able to accomplish little guy.”

***

Micah held the long handle out to Catra who just stared at the tool dubiously.

“It’s a hoe,” he said.

“You say that as though it will clarify something for me,” Catra replied.

“Well if you would take it and follow me you might find further explanation forthcoming.”

Catra made a face but accepted the hoe, following Micah out to the garden.

“Now that there are two of us, we can expand some more and try to grow some different things. In order to do that we need to break up the ground enough to plant the new stuff and that’s where the hoe comes in.” He demonstrated digging the sharp end into the dirt below.

Catra eyed it skeptically. “Can’t I just use my claws?”

Micah huffed and swung the hoe down again. “Oh, the vigor of youth. You make my back hurt just thinking about it. Yes, I suppose you could, but it’s only fun until you get one of those razors stuck in a root and it pulls out.”

Catra winced. “Point taken,” she said. She picked up the hoe and mimicked his action. The earth beneath her the hoe’s tip cracked and crumbled into soft, dark dirt. “What are we going to grow anyway?” she asked.

Micah’s eyes lit up. “These,” he said, reaching into his pouch and producing a small, red fruit with little seeds scattered on the outside. He held it out to Catra. “Try this.”

Catra accepted it and took a bite. Juicy, tart sweetness flooded into her mouth and without thinking she closed her eyes.

“Oh,” she whispered. “What is it?”

“A strawberry!” said Micah. “I found a grove of wild ones a few months back but they’re so temperamental to grow in a garden I didn’t want to spare the space trying to cultivate them here. But now that I have your help, I figure we can take the risk.”

“I will definitely help you grow more of those,” said Catra. “I am fully committed to the effort.”

Micah laughed. “Ever the solider.”

They worked for a few hours in relative silence. Eventually they reached the end of the area Micah had designated to the project.

Catra wiped sweat of from brow and leaned against the hoe. She glanced over at Micah and then back down at the dirt.

“Go on,” said Micah. “I’ve been feeling you thinking about saying something to me all morning. I’m honestly shocked you’ve shown this much restraint.”

Catra felt her cheeks flush. “After our conversation the other night you never really told me…. I was wondering what you were doing. In the other room. With magic?”

Micah’s brow furrowed. “An oversight on my part. It’s not a secret anymore. Come with me, we’re due for a break.”

Micah led Catra through the previously forbidden door in the back of the cabin.

It still took effort to quell the wave of fear when Catra saw the large bowl in the middle of the room with the gem hovering above it. There was no light emanating from the objects now but Catra could still see echoes of the spell pattern in her mind’s eye.

“Ever since I found myself stranded on this island, I have been trying to find a way out,” said Micah. Catra absently touched the bag tied to the belt at her hip where she had taken to keeping the Horde remote. “I expect for all she raised you, Shadow Weaver never told you much about the magical arts?” Catra shook her head. “Even the strongest sorcerers need a focus to cast magic. That is usually in the form of a crystal. Mystacore had thousands of crystals for its sorcerers to use, but when I left, I only took two with me. One I used to make my staff, which of course was lost in the Battle of Half Moon. The other I…well let’s just say Light Spinner’s unorthodox lessons mean I’m seldom unprepared. I managed to hide it well enough that it came with me to Beast Island. I’ve been using it to try to contact my family back in Bright Moon.”

Catra froze. “Bright Moon?” she asked hoarsely.

“For the first several years I was pretty resoundingly unsuccessful.” Micah continued. “My magic with the one crystal wasn’t powerful enough to get across the physical distance between Beast Island and Bright Moon. But—you may not remember this—but a few months ago there was a big shift in the magical fields around Etheria.”

Catra felt her back stiffen. The portal….

“I have these…memories from that time. I don’t know if they are real or not, but they are very vivid.” Micah shook his head. “I saw my wife. My daughter. I was back in Bright Moon again. Then this Horde solider, who I guess was your friend Adora, came and told us the world we were in wasn’t real. At some point I had all my memories of that alternate world as well as this one. Then that universe collapsed and I was back here again.”

Micah shook himself. “I’m sure it all sounds crazy now. I see the look on your face.”

Catra had no idea what look she had on her face. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood.

“The point is that once I came back here, I tried to reach out to Angella again and for the first time I could sense her out there. It took me a long time to figure out what I was sensing and how, but eventually I realized that she was still trapped in a remnant of that other universe. And somehow—whether it’s a connection with Beast Island or my own attachment to Angie or the place itself—my magic can bridge the divide.” Micah furrowed his brow. “It’s faint. I think she can sense me, maybe see me, but we can’t speak. If I had more power, I might be able to bring her back here.” He looked back up at Catra. “So that’s what I have been working on.”

Catra nodded mechanically. “I…uh…wow,” she said. Her stomach turned. “I’m going to go get some air?” she said and turned to leave the room.

“Of course, sorry. I know you hate this magic stuff,” she heard Micah say behind her.

Catra burst out of the cabin and ran to the tree line. She fell to her knees and immediately vomited up the strawberry and stomach lining. She sat back on her heels, heart racing and wiped away the moisture that had sprung to her eyes with the heaving.

She stared out in thick jungle underbrush.

“Catra?” She heard Micah calling from behind her. “Are you okay? I didn’t think being in the room would upset you so much. I would have explained out here.”

Catra dug her claws into her palms and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Was it the mention of Adora? I know that’s still a tender topic for you.” He laid a hand on Catra’s shoulder.

“Back off old man!” Catra shouted batting his hand away and whirling around. “Who said you could touch me?” She held out one clawed hand.

Micah’s eyes were wide. Catra felt her stomach turn again as she recognized the same expression from when she told Adora she didn’t want her to come back to the Horde and brandished the stun baton at Scorpia.

“Not everything gets solved with a pathetic heart to heart!” she shouted. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about Adora just because you saw her in some dream world.”

Micah held up his hands defensively. “Catra, I don’t know what upset you, but please don’t take it out on me.”

“_You_ upset me.” She snorted. “I knew you came from the princess’s world but seriously? Bright Moon. Husband to _Queen_ Angella. I should have known better. You’re all the same, trying to get me to join your stupid Alliance. As though I would ever want to! As though I would just throw away everything I worked so hard for just because you all stole my friend, my mentor, my whole freaking _life?_”

To Catra’s surprise, Micah’s eyes went soft and sad instead of angry. “You don’t have to do this, Catra. I can’t stop you if you’re determined to self-destruct, but I also won’t stop giving you the chance to choose something better.”

“Aurgh,” Catra screamed. “I never asked for your forgiveness, old man.” She pushed past him and walked off toward the garden. Micah did not follow.

She could barely see where she was going, anger and tears clouding her vision. She stepped on a stake set into the ground to mark the start of the pea plants. Pain shot up from her foot and she let out a loud cry.

“What. The. Ahh!” She kicked the plant next to the stake, stomping it until the shoot was completely mashed and broken. Catra could see bits of green stuck to the bottom of her toes.

She gave out another anguished cry and reached out grapping a handful of pea shoots, ripping them out of the ground and throwing them as hard she could. They scattered around her. Catra grabbed handful after handful, first the pea shoots, then the carrots, then the squash. She clawed at the dirt throwing handfuls every which direction as she screamed.

Finally, somewhere near the tomato plants, she ran out of energy.

She came back to herself, chest heaving with sobs and desperate gasps for oxygen. Her hands and feet were cut and bleeding, covered in caked dirt. Dirt clung to the ripped-up knees of her leggings and debris coated her shirt and bare shoulders.

She stared at her hands and at the darkening sky above her. Then she stood stiffly and slowly walked back to the cabin.

When she reached the front door, she initially reached for the handle but then paused. She raised on dirty, bloody hand and knocked.

There was a pause and then the door swung open. Micah stood, backlit by the cooking fire that was blazing cheerfully in the corner.

“I destroyed the garden,” said Catra, flatly.

“I can see that,” Micah replied.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“There is a whole island if you want it. Try again.”

Catra looked off to the side and then back at Micah.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I forgive you,” said Micah. He steps back and let’s Catra into the cabin. “Let’s get you cleaned up and see to your hands.”

***

Catra dreamed.

She sits on the railing looking out over the sickly green yellow of the Fright Zone. Adora stands beside her, elbows propped up on the railing resting her chin on her hands.

“Not exactly the photo op that Bright Moon is, but it does have its own sort of polluted beauty,” says Adora.

“Bright Moon colors make me want to puke,” says Catra.

“To be honest that was my first thought when I went there.”

“That you wanted to puke?”

“That it would make _you_ want to puke.” Adora tilts her head to one side and looks up at Catra. “I thought it all looked sort of…charming. I had never seen so many colors before in my life.”

They continue to take in the view in silence.

Adora is the one to break it. Of course.

“Why did you bring me here, Catra?” she asks.

“It’s our spot!”

“It was our spot. Before.”

“Why can’t it just be like that again,” said Catra. “When it was just the two of us against the world. Why can’t things be the way they were?”

Adora stares down at the pipes below them. “Maybe it could have been. At some point. But you kind of started burning down that bridge when you kidnapped my friends, threw me off a cliff, tried to destroy new home and then broke reality.”

“Can you blame me?” Catra’s voice sounds weak even to her own ears.

Adora looks up at her with the same sad, concern she had seen on Micah’s face. “Yes Catra. I blame you. You did this to yourself. I may have been the one to fracture our friendship, but you’re the one who split it open and poured salt in the wound.”

Catra turns her head away.

Adora reaches up and cups Catra’s cheek, bringing her back around to face Adora.

“I love you, Catra. But I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

Catra is crying again, annoyed because she has been doing this so. Much. Lately. She doesn’t trust her voice but nods. Adora presses a soft kiss on her forehead.

Catra woke up with aching palms and wet cheeks.

The next morning Catra climbed out of bed just before moonrise and went to sit at the table. She reached into her pouch and placed the Horde remote on the table in front of her. She folded her arms and waited.

Micah woke up an hour later. He sat up in the bed roll and looked over to where she sat.

“I was sent here to find someone.” Catra said. “Two someones, really.” She gestured to the device in front of her. “This is my ticket back to the Fright Zone if I succeed. If I push this button a boat will show up. If I have completed my assignment, we all go home. If I am alone, they may kill me, or they may just leave me here for the Island to finish me off. No second chances.

“The people I’m supposed to find…I did wrong by them.” She shook her head slightly. “I did wrong by a lot of people, even before I crossed this line, but I…. If they’re still alive I owe them…something. A lot. But I don’t know if a trip back to the Fright Zone is the right thing.”

She looked over at Micah. “I’ve made so many bad decisions in the past…well, my entire life. I can’t be trusted. Part of me wants to complete the mission as fast as possible and run back to the Fright Zone. Part of me wants to push this button right now and just take away the choice forever. Most of me is just delaying the decision because I’m so sure whatever choice I make it will be the wrong one.”

She held out the remote. “Please take this. Push the button if you want. Hide it away. Use it to escape and leave me behind; that would honestly be what I deserve. Just…take the option away from me.”

Micah looked at the device blinking in Catra’s outstretched hand and then up at her face. He reached out and gently took it from her.

“How about this,” said Micah. “How about if we put this away for today while we replant the garden. And then tomorrow we will start to search for these people who you wronged. And we give them the choice.”

Catra looked down at the table and nodded.

“They get to decide what it right for them, Catra. But you get to decide what is right for you. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.

Catra glared at the table. She thought about Scorpia’s hopeful face in the Crimson Waste. She thought about Adora taking her hand in the First One’s ruin. She thought about walking down the hallway of the Fright Zone with the soldiers parting to let her pass.

She closed her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. 

“Well think about it. Now let’s get some breakfast before we have to assess the damage. If we’re expecting to have two more guests, we’re going to need to be able to feed them!”

***

“Oh man, these little fuzzy critters are delicious when they’re cooked!” Scorpia nibbled around the edge of the charred rodent-on-a-stick and paged through Entrapta’s survival manual. “I should have read this chapter ages ago!”

“It is quite a bit more pleasant after so many berries,” said Entrapta. She was holding one of the sticks with a hair tendril, eating absent mindedly as she tinkered with the tracker pad and the gem from the First One’s ruin. “I do miss my tiny food and fizzy drinks though.”

Scorpia studied the food for a moment frowning. “I mean in a way this is tiny food. After all the creatures are way smaller than any of the big fuzzy critters. Not that I think I would look at them as food so much as the other way around….”

“Ugh.” Entrapta let the tracker pad slip from her grasp. “I’m having a terrible time getting into this thing. I can tell it has so much potential but there’s something interfering with the signal.”

“Take a break,” said Scorpia around a mouthful. “My squad leader always used to say that sometimes you just need to turn your brain off and then back on again to try to solve a problem.”

“That sounds biologically unsound but metaphorically may not be a terrible idea for the moment. I do sometimes forget that the brain requires proper rest and nutrients to operate properly.”

Scorpia smiled and settled back against the log. Their fire crackled and the camp smelled of woodsmoke and cooked meat.

Off to one side there was a faint rustling.

Scorpia sat up. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

Entrapta pulled out her sack of data crystals and gave it a little shake. “Don’t worry, we’re ready.”

“Maybe you should let me have that,” said Scorpia. “I know you’re the brains of the operation, but I should probably take point in protection. I was trained for battle by the Horde, after all.”

“I did just fine with the last three creatures,” said Entrapta. “Besides, I don’t want to lose any of these.”

“I wouldn’t _lose_ the data crystals. I just think I could pack more of a punch with them.”

“There is no need to pack more of a….”

Entrapta was interrupted by the snap of a branch off to the side of the camp. She and Scorpia turned sharply, Entrapta brandishing the bag of stones in front of her clutched it both hands.

“Woah! No need to bring out the bludgeon!” said a deep voice. There was a soft squeaking sound and a small creature, similar to the one that had graced Scorpia and Entrapta’s skewers, ran out of the underbrush, sat back on its heels and chittered angrily shaking a tiny paw up at Scorpia.

A figure stepped out of the darkness behind the rodent. He had dark hair pulled up into a top knot with speckles of grey throughout a long beard.

“Now, Fredrich. We’ve talked about the fact that humanoids eat all manner of things. You can’t judge them for following their nature any more than I can judge you for hiding nuts in my bedrolls.” The man looked up at the two princesses.

“Hello. You must be Scorpia and Entrapta. My name is Micah. I have been looking all over for you.”

***

Catra was working in the garden when she heard the party arrive. The fur on the tip of her tail stood on end as she heard Entrapta’s excited babbling pierce the hum of the jungle. A moment later she could hear the base tones of Scorpia and Micah’s voice, although she couldn’t make out any specific words. Her heart pounded and she tried to turn her attention back to the row she was replanting.

It took another fifteen minutes before they broke through the edge of the jungle and Catra could see the group making their way toward the cabin. She stood slowly and wiped her hand on her pants.

Scorpia spotted her first. She stopped walking and just stared at Catra.

Entrapta noticed Scorpia had stopped walking and turned back to where she was standing. She tracked her gaze and caught sight of Catra as well. Her eyes went big.

“Catra!” she shouted, bounding up to her. “How did you end up on Beast Island?”

“I…uh.” Catra cleared her throat as she watched Entrapta’s face shift through a series of different expression. Excitement followed by confusion and finally settling on wariness. “I was sent to bring you back to the Fright Zone.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Scorpia, stepping in front of Entrapta. “Hordak wouldn’t have sent her on a rescue mission out here. Not expecting her to come back.”

“I don’t know that he expected me to come back,” Catra admitted. “But that is how I ended up here.”

“Catra,” said Micah softly from behind the princesses.

Catra sighed and looked down at her feet. “I wanted to…I asked Micah to help me find you because….” She cleared her throat again.

“I…uh screwed up,” she said. “I shouldn’t have turned on you, Entrapta and I…uh…shouldn’t have threatened you, Scorpia. There’s a lot of other stuff too, I know, but that was kind of the biggest one so…I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause.

Then Scorpia let out a loud sniff and scooped Catra up in her arms. “Oh, who am I kidding. I forgive you, Wildcat. I could never stay mad at you.”

Catra winced but accepted the hug with only minimal wiggling. When Scorpia set her back down on her feet she turned to Entrapta whose face had become unreadable.

“I thought you were my friend,” said Entrapta. “My data supported it, even though Adora said I couldn’t trust you.” She made a face. “I hate it when my data misleads me in these matters.”

Catra scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t think your data was entirely wrong. I did want you as a friend. Even if my actions didn’t reflect that.”

Entrapta shook her head. “I have additional data now. A friend would not demand that another friend do something dangerous and then hit them with a stun baton when they refused. Unless I continue to misunderstand the parameters of friendship?” She glanced at Scorpia.

Catra winced. “No, you’re right. That was…not friendly of me.”

Entrapta studied her for a moment. “I will need to gather more data,” she said after a minute. Then she nodded to herself and walked in the direction of the cabin. Scorpia scrambled after her.

Micah watched them enter the cabin, Scorpia nearly smacking her head on the low-hanging entrance.

“We might need their help to add on to the place,” said Micah. “It’s getting a bit cramped.”

Catra nodded, still watching the entrance to the cabin.

“How are you doing?” asked Micah.

“I’m going to finish planting this row,” said Catra. She knelt back down onto the soft dirt and set back to work.

***

Catra did not return to the cabin until the moons were starting to set and it became too dim to see. She could hear the rumble of conversation and laughter punctuated a few high pitched chitters from Fredrich as she paused at the front door. When she pushed through, she was greeted to the group of them gathered around the table, the room lit by the cheery crackle of the cook fire in the corner.

“…the crystals used by the sorcerers of Mystacore are in fact tiny data crystals mined from the interior of the planet. That’s how they can be channeled to form effects on the natural world of Etheria, similarly to the princesses with their runestones. They serve as a non-specific focus.” Entrapta, who seemed to have turned her hair into a chair, was leaning over the table scribbling furiously. Scorpia was seated beside her looking in the direction of the drawing but Catra could see her eyes were glazed over as she was mechanically polishing off a bowl of stew.

“I never thought of it like that,” muttered Micah, peering over her shoulder.

“Most Etherians don’t!” exclaimed Entrapta. “But I have devoted my life to figuring out the integration of magic and technology, specifically in how it relates for First One’s tech. Tadaaaah!”

Catra skirted around the edge of the room and helped herself to her own bowl of stew.

“That…that looks extraordinary, but can it really work?” asked Micah.

“I don’t know!” Entrapta let out a loud laugh. “I can’t wait to find out!”

“Did you see this?” said Micah, turning to where Catra was leaning against the wall, eating.

“I learned a long time ago that I need Entrapta to explain her diagrams in very small words if I’m going to have any idea what she’s on about,” said Catra.

“She thinks she can use this data crystal they found to bolster the signal from my casting! This might be the piece I have been missing to finally bring back Angie!”

Catra glanced up from her food. Micah was looking at her, eyes bright with excitement. Entrapta was still studying the drawing she had…apparently made directly onto the dinner table. Scorpia was looking at her with a furrowed brow.

“If my calculations are correct,” said Entrapta. “We just need to find a means of stabilizing alt-Etheria and using the data crystal we found at the First One’s ruin we should have the power to punch through and access the stranded consciousness. And now that I have seen Micah’s laboratory, I know what has been interfering with my ability to interpret the data and I downloaded from the run, and can start to analyze it in earnest!”

“That’s wonderful,” said Catra. “Just be careful. Some of Entrapta’s initial attempts can be a bit...explosive.”

“Oh, explosions won’t be the problem here,” said Entrapa, she continued to draw. “The real risk will be in re-fracturing our reality by bridging the divide and ejecting Angella’s consciousness from alt-Etheria.”

Catra paused with the spoon halfway up to her mouth. Scorpia and Micah both turned to look at Entrapta.

Entrapta looked up. “Well obviously we would run simulations before we would let that happen!”

“Sensible,” said Micah. “Did I tell you about my first attempt at a wind spell because wow, let me tell you I could have done with some simulations before jumping into that one….”

Catra placed her empty bowl near the rest of the washing up and walked back out of the cabin into the night air.

A moment later the door opened and closed again and Scorpia came to stand beside her. They stood there in silence for a long minute before Scorpia spoke.

“He doesn’t know, does he.”

Catra looked away. “Not unless you two just told him.”

“We didn’t. Only because Entrapta’s too caught up in the science of _how_ Angella got trapped in the other universe to think about her own role in all of this, much less yours. But it might only be a matter of time.”

“And you? Are you going to tell him?”

Scorpia frowned. “He deserves to know, Catra. Don’t you think?”

“Why?” Catra threw up her arms and walked a few steps away from the front of the cabin. “It won’t change anything. He’ll just hate me, and I’ll be all alone again.”

“Maybe he won’t? From what I can gather he already knows a lot about your past.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“He…he has his reasons for giving me the benefit of the doubt. I doubt that extends to destroying his family and almost ending the universe as we know it.”

Scorpia sighed. “I don’t deny it’s a tall order. But I would think after everything that’s happened you would have learned that avoiding your problems just makes them worse in the end.”

Catra turned away. “Are you going to tell him?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Not yet anyway.”

“Thank you, Scorpia.”

Scorpia shook her head and disappeared back into the cabin.

***

Catra dreamed.

She-ra stands over her as she clings to the wall of the cliff. The light of the collapsing alternate world streams up around her lifting her golden hair upward toward a sky filled with tiny dots of light.

“Adora!” Catra shouts. “I’m slipping!” She feels her fingers losing purchase and tries to dig in her claws. She’s met with solid stone.

She-ra walks to the edge of the cliff and looks down. “You wanted this,” she shouts above the roar. “Why should I save you?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it to go this far.”

She-ra kneels at the edge of the cliff. “But it did go this far.”

“I’ll fix it, Adora. I promise. Together we can fix it, like you said. Just help me, please!”

“It’s too late, Catra.” She-ra shakes her head. “Lives have been lost. You can’t fix it anymore.”

“Adora!” Catra feels her fingers slip again.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” She-ra says as she stands. “I really am going to miss you.”

Catra’s fingers grasp nothing and she feels herself fall.

Catra gasped and sat bolt upright. The cabin was silent aside from Micah’s soft snores and Scorpia muttering something about ration bars.

Catra lay back down and watched the ceiling until morning.

***

“Explain it again more slowly,” Micah was asking when Catra re-entered the cabin from gardening a few days later.

Entrapta huffed. “It’s just a minor setback. You should still be able to talk with her, no problem.”

“I don’t just want to talk to my wife, Entrapta. I want to get her out of…alt-Etheria, or whatever we’re calling it, and back home with our daughter.”

Catra ignored them and poured herself a cup of water just as Scorpia came rushing through the door.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll fix it I promise,” Scorpia interrupted, slamming the door behind her.

Catra sighed. “What happened?”

“Look I just don’t think I’m cut out for anything too delicate.” Scorpia snapped a claw a few times.

“You broke the tomato plant?”

“Maybe I should go back to clearing a new patch?”

Catra pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have enough new patches, Scorpia.”

“What about sending her out hunting?” said Entrapta. “She was very good at getting us tasty tiny critters to eat.”

Fredrich chittered angrily from his perch on one of the shelves behind Micah’s head.

“What if she brought back a bird?” suggested Micah.

Fredrich seemed to consider this with a tilt of his head and then chittered a bit more agreeably.

“Sure! A bird!” said Scorpia. Her eyes darted around the room. “I can do that. I think.”

Catra sighed. “You were doing fine planting and turning over the ground. You can go back and I’ll take over pruning.”

“Oh, thank you Catra. I promise I won’t let you down. Again. Anyway. What’s going on in here?”

“We’ve managed to set up the means to create a temporary bridge between our world and alt-Etheria,” said Entrapta.

“Is that really what we’re calling it?” Scorpia stage whispered to Catra who just shrugged.

“But…?” prompted Micah.

Entrapta let out of a huff of air. “_But_ it’s pretty unstable and we still have not managed to find a means of stabilizing alt-Etheria if we bring Angella back to this plane.” She pointed a hair tendril at Micah. “_But also_ I have not finished going through all of the data from the First One’s ruin so maybe if you were just a bit more _patient._”

“Ugh, I’m sorry Entrapta. It’s just we’re so _close._ I haven’t been this hopeful since I first realized I could reach Angie when the other world collapsed.

“Just because we haven’t found the answer yet doesn’t mean we won’t discover it soon. Science is an iterative process. You can’t give up just because for first simulation doesn’t work the way you expected it.”

“This is our eighteenth simulation, Entrapta.”

“And we are _so much closer_ than when we started. Come on!” She grabbed Micah’s arm and dragged back into the workroom, slamming the door behind them.

“We should head back out too,” said Catra, leading Scorpia back into the garden.

“They’re getting awfully close to being able to talk to Angella,” said Scorpia, settling down at one end of squash row.

Catra went over to inspect the damage to the tomatoes. “Mmmhmm.”

“Entrapta told him about the portal,” said Scorpia. “Not your part in it, I asked her not to, but she explained her own. He took it well.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” muttered Catra.

“It’s only a matter of time before he finds out, Catra. You can’t really be so far in de.”

“Once he knows what I did, he’s going to turn on me. Just like everyone does. I’ll lose him! I’ll lose everything. All over again!”

“You lied about Shadow Weaver and we saw what that got you. You lied about Entrapta and now here you are. Maybe you should try just being honest for a change?”

Catra gave a short laugh. “And what are you going to do when he kicks me out of his little oasis here? Come protect me from the horrors of Beast Island like you did for Entrapta? Like you did for me in the Crimson Waste? That’s right, because can just choose to do whatever you want. You’ve never had to deal with loss the way I have. You’ve never had to risk anything because no one is going to risk pissing off the Scorpion _princess_ who happens keeps slumming it with the Horde for no apparent reason.”

Scorpia jerked back as though Catra had physically hit her.

“Is that really what you think of me, Catra?” She shook her head. “You know, I thought I could do this,” she said. “I thought I could just forgive you and let things go back to the way they were. But I forgot that the way things were _sucked_. I’m sick of waiting for you to stop complaining everything that you don’t have and see what is right in front of you!”

Scorpia turned on her heel and started to march back toward the cabin.

“Scorpia, wait!” Catra jumped up and ran in front of her holding both hands up in a stopping gesture. “I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

Scorpia froze in surprise.

“I’m…what?”

“You’re right. You’ve always been there for me and I’ve always been terrible for you and I…I’m trying to change. I swear, I’m better I…just….” Catra too a deep breath. “I’m so scared.”

Catra closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them Scorpia was standing in front of her still waiting.

“When he finds out—if I tell him—he’s going to ask me why I did it. What I was thinking. If I tell him the truth, it will be that when activated the portal, I didn’t _care_ who died or who was hurt. And when I came back and found out that Queen Angella had been lost trying to save the world my first thought was _victory_. That after _everything_, after Adora had won _yet again_, at least I had this one triumph. At least I had left my mark on their perfect little princesses and their perfect little world.”

Scorpia seemed to be looking at something over Catra’s shoulder.

“And now?” Scorpia asked. “How do you feel about it now?”

Catra shook her head.

“Yes Catra. I suppose I would like to know the answer to that question too.”

Catra whirled around to see Micah standing at the edge of the garden holding the cup of water she had left on the table in the cabin.

Catra’s eyes widened. “How much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“Enough,” said Micah.

“I….” Catra’s mouth worked on nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Catra shot a frantic look to Scorpia. She had no idea what she looked like but Scorpia looked immediately alarmed.

“Catra?” said Scorpia. “Take a breath. Let’s talk this through

“After everything, Catra, why can’t you just tell me the truth?” Micah asked.

Catra looked away. “It’s another long story.”

Micah spread his arms wide. “When have I ever not had time for you?”

Catra squeezed her eyes closed.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

“Of course you did,” said Micah. “I know why you did it but….” He shook his head. “I need some time,” he said.

“Micah, please,” Catra looked up as he turned to walk away. She held out one hand toward him.

Micah paused.

“Please?” begged Catra.

Micah shook his head again. “I need some time,” he repeated and walked away.

Catra couldn’t breathe. There was a vice around her ribs, and she could suck the air past it. Her breath came in short gasps and her vision was starting to tunnel inwards.

_You’re having a panic attack,_ she heard Micah say. _Just focus on your left foot._

“NO!”

Catra pushed past Scopria and ran back toward the cabin, throwing open the front door. Inside her vision was clearing slightly but the feeling of sucking air through a straw was unchanged. She grasped the edge of the table and tried to slow her breathing but to no avail.

There was a sudden glow behind the closed work room door.

Catra lunged for the door and pulled it open.

Entrapta was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the large bowl of water with her visor down and a small metal tube emitting a flame.

“Oh, Catra! Do you know if Micah is coming back soon? I think we can run the next simulation in a few hours.”

“Send me in!” Catra said, lurching forward. “Send me in to alt-Etheria.”

Entrapta turned off the flame and pushed back her visor, blinking at Catra through her goggles.

“That’s not a good idea. The bridge is still relatively unstable and, as I was saying this morning, we still haven’t solved the problem of needing an ongoing consciousness to hold alt-Etheria open.”

“I don’t care, you have to send me. I’ll…I’ll figure it out. I’ll…do something, anything.”

Entrapta looked nervously from Catra to the door. “Did something happen?” she asked slowly. “You seem distraught.”

Catra grabbed Entrapta by the shoulders and lifted her up into the air.

“I’ve never done one good thing in my entire life and now I’m going to lose everything again and I can’t. Entrapta, I _can’t_. You have to send me in there. It’s the only chance that I have fix this. To fix _anything_.”

Entrapta stared at her.

“_Please,_ Entrapta. Do this for me and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

Entrapta furrowed her brow. “Well…we have run enough simulations to say that the bridge should be stable to send one mind across.” Catra set her down and she started to gather up various bits of equipment. “I’ve been wanting to test this for _ages_ and Micah keeps insisting on running further safety simulations.” She grabbed some sort of metal bowl with several circles on it and started plugging various tubes in at various points. “Which I understand is proper protocol and after what happened with the initial portal probably only makes good sense, but this time I _know_ the theoretical risks and they are really far less statistically likely. Put this on your head.” She handed Catra the metal device.

Catra tried to put it on but her headpiece got in the way. With a deep sigh she removed the mask and set it aside before placing the bowl on her head.

“There is not much of alt-Etheria left,” said Entrapta. “So, it won’t be hard to find her. Time is a little different there so you can’t dawdle. As I have calculated it you have about two hours and ten minutes before the bridge becomes too unstable to travel back, but that might be off by a bit so I wouldn’t push it. And you won’t be able to bring her back here yet; there has to be at least one mind there to stabilize the alternate universe and prevent it from collapsing with our world.”

Catra sat down on the floor. “Just do it,” she muttered.

Entrapta hit the switch.

There was a flash of white light. The world around Catra disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. My Micah survival theory is largely based on him using magic that I have not fully defined rules for and therefore can shape itself to fill whatever gaps I want (such as how he single-handedly built a whole cabin). But I did figure the garden started through foraging (with some help from his squirrel buddy) and then taking and replanting seeds. Do wild strawberries grow in tropical jungles in Etheria? Well they do now!  
2\. I wrote both Catra and Micah to have a certain amount of intentional ignorance when it came to one another’s role in the main conflict. Catra knows Micah was a part of the rebellion, but she was choosing to imagine he was sort of a peripheral player. Even when he describes a central role in the Battle of Half Moon, she kind of ignores that detail for the more direct admission about his relationship with Shadow Weaver. By the same token, Micah never asked too many follow up questions about how high in the Horde ranks Catra was and even when she implies that she “clawed her way to the top” he assumes that means a middle ranking soldier, not second in command leading attacks against his family. They needed this shared delusion to form their close relationship (if Catra had known he was Glimmer’s father at the start she would have dragged herself back into the wilderness, paralysis be damned), but of course at a certain point that falls apart. I hope it falls apart in a realistic manner because I honestly do think this kind of cognitive dissonance is normal. It’s hard to write from the perspective of the characters who don’t really know they’re doing it.  
3\. Micah’s strategy for Catra’s outbursts is to not let her make it personal. She’s very good at pushing people’s buttons and making them react to her rather than engaging with her. Micah is just straight up like, “Fine you want to scream and yell and have a fit, fine. I’ll be over there when you’re done and want to talk about it.” He’s not abandoning her (huge trigger obviously) but he’s also not letting her dictate the terms of engagement.   
4\. I should be clear, Catra’s catastrophizing and black and white thinking (saying things like she has never done anything good in her entire life) are a part of her mental illness and does not reflect the views of the author.


	5. White Noise

Catra is sitting in the middle of a field. There is a large glowing yellow orb in the sky, blindingly bright like the brightest moon Catra has ever seen. It lights up the field an iridescent green with speckles of purple and yellow flowers as far as she can see in front of her.

Behind her, about 100 feet back, is a forest; dense trees with interlocking branches that is reminiscent of the Whispering Woods.

The whole world is silent. There is no sound of wind moving across the grass or rustling the leaves. There are no insects buzzing in the bushes or birds chirping in the trees. In the absence of sound Catra can hear her own heartbeat pounding in her chest and the rush of blood through her ears.

She looks down at herself to sees both hands clearly defined. She runs one hand down the skin of the right side of her face and releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She doesn’t know what she had expected.

She stands and turns in a circle. She shields her eyes with her hand, blocking out some of the bright light. She can feel the heat from the orb beating down and beads of sweat are starting to form in a line across her forehead.

Far in the distance she can make out a faint pink smudge on the horizon.

She glances back at the inviting cool shade of the forest, but she shakes her head and starts forward.

For a long time, she walks without feeling like she is moving at all. The smudge doesn’t seem to change at all in size or definition.

_Once again you let your emotions get the best of you._ The admonishment comes in Shadow Weaver’s voice. _No guarantee you can even find her, much less in the time allotted. No plan for when you do. No wonder you’ve never been more than second best._

“Shut up, witch,” Catra mutters and just keeps walking forward.

Eventually the smudge does start to take on the form of a figure. Then the figure begins to develop details; a tall slender stature, long hair, large delicate pink wings.

The field ends where the figure is standing, breaking off to form a steep cliff into nothingness. Angella is standing with both arms outstretched in front of her, the sword of protection lying flat on her upturned palms.

As Catra approached, Angella turns to her.

“I wasn’t expecting it would be you,” she says.

“That makes two of us.”

Angella narrows her eyes. “Why? Taunting _me_ doesn’t seem your style. Not with Adora still on Etheria. Unless you trying to get to her through me?”

Catra gazes at the sword in Angella’s arms. It looks…incorporeal.

“I’m not here to taunt you. Or Adora.” She looks up at Angella. “I’m here to fix this.”

Angella raises her eyebrows. “Is that even possible?”

“I think so.” Catra frowns and nods. “I think it’s the only way.”

“There are always choices, child. There is a whole big world out there that needs healing. Sometimes it’s easier to make the big sacrifice than face the day-to-day of trying to make up for your mistakes.”

“I don’t think there is any making up for my mistakes,” says Catra. “I tried to be better, but I’m just…not. I’m not good.” She looks up and meets Angella’s eyes. “But maybe I don’t have to be bad,” she says and reaches out to take the sword handle.

For all it appears wispy and faint, the touch of the metal feels solid. It’s cold, an aching sort of cold that runs up Catra’s arms and forms an aching pain across the muscles of her back. She seizes the sword with both hands and pulls it from Angella’s grasp.

Angella’s eyes widen and immediately she starts to fade out, looking much like the sword had a moment ago. “Catra, no! This was my burden.”

Catra shakes her head. “My fault,” she grits out. “My burden.” She sucks in air and clings to the sword. “You know you’re a lot less terrifying than the Horde made you out to be. You’re lucky I won’t be around to out you when you get back.”

Angella’s laugh lingers as her form vanishes and Catra is left standing on the cliff, clutching the sword of protection.

“Well here we are,” she says to no one. “I suppose I might have expected it would end like this.” She looks around. “I always thought Adora would be here at least.”

She sits on the edge of the cliff, feet dangling over the edge.

Catra waits.

***

Time passes.

Catra isn’t sure how much time. After a while it all seems to run together. The bright orb in the sky doesn’t move. The nothingness before her doesn’t change.

The pain from the sword seems to fade out after a while. Eventually her arms go numb, which initially is a relief, but eventually becomes a discomfort of its own. Then that too seems to fade from awareness.

Initially, she has moments of panic thinking about eternity here. She has moments of regret. Moments of anger. But everything seems dulled and the moments fade and eventually it’s just Catra and sword and the void. And that’s okay.

And then one day (are there even days here?) there is a hand on her shoulder and Catra looks up and sees Micah standing beside her.

“No,” she says. Her voice sounds hoarse and cracked. Her fingers grip the sword.

“It’s okay, kitten,” says Micah. “You can let go now.”

“I can’t,” says Catra. “This is all I have.”

Micah sits down beside her and places a hand on her arm. “That has never been true.”

Tears leak from her eyes. “It feels true.”

“I know. But we’re working on that, right? It’s getting better. And it would be a shame to give up now.”

Catra frowns down at the sword in her hands. “But who is going to stay here.” She looks up sharply. “I won’t give it to you. You can’t take it from me!”

“I won’t,” Micah assures her. “Give it to Sarah.”

“Who is…?” There is a metallic clanking and she turns to see one of Entrapta’s bots sitting on her other side with two arms extended. “How?”

Micah just smiles. “Entrapta figured it out. I’ll explain later. But we’re running out of time. The bridge is still fragile.”

Catra nods and lets the sword onto the outstretched arms of the bot. The pain she had stopped noticing vanishes in a wave of bliss. Catra sways and Micah reaches out a hand to steady her.

Micah takes her hand in his. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Catra opened her eyes to see the familiar ceiling of the cabin. She was back lying on the bed in the main room.

She turned to her side and saw Micah lying beside her, their hands intertwined. He was wearing the funny little metal hat Entrapta had placed on her head to send her into alt-Etheria. His eyes were slowly blinking open.

“They’re waking up! I think he did it!”

Catra turned her head back toward the rest of the room. Scorpia and Entrapta were sitting beside the bed staring at them. Scorpia was chewing on the tips of her claws.

“Scorpia?” asked Catra. “How long was I….”

“Almost two weeks,” said a familiar, polished voice from behind the two princesses. Catra looked up to see Angella towering behind them. “It took that long for Entrapta and my husband to figure out an alternative consciousness to hold alt-Etheria stable.”

“Her name is Sarah!” said Entrapta.

Catra swung her legs around to sit up.

“Uh…hi. You…uhm…made it out.”

“Thanks to you,” said Angella. “Not discounting of course that I wouldn’t have needed rescuing if you hadn’t activated the portal in the first place.”

Catra scratched the back of her neck. “I’m…uh…sorry about that.”

Angella crouched down in front of her and took Catra’s hands in hers. She looked directly into Catra’s eyes and said, “It was a very brave and very foolish thing that you did just now. And I am very grateful. You have given me my family back. I forgive you, Catra.”

Catra looked away and nodded.

Angella smiled and stood again, ducking slightly to avoid hitting her head on one of the lower beams of the cabin.

Catra felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Micah sitting up on the bed behind her.

“Micah,” she said, eyes suddenly filling with tears as she remembered their last conversation.

Micah just smiled and shook his head. “I was always going to forgive you, kitten. You just didn’t give me the chance.”

“I…I couldn’t….”

“I know. We’re going to work on that, okay?”

Catra nodded, not trusting her voice, and let him pull her into a tight hug. She buried her head in his shoulder and told herself no one would notice all the tears soaking into the fabric of his cloak.

***

Catra dreamed.

She is sitting on the beach of Beast Island watching the moons set.

Adora walks up beside her and sits down. For a while they sit in silence.

“What next?” Adora asks.

Catra turns to look at her. “I’m so tired,” she says. “After all this…Adora, I’m just so tired.”

Adora nods. “You’ve done well. You deserve a rest.”

Catra sighs and rests her head on Adora’s shoulder. Adora reaches up and strokes her fingers through Catra’s hair.

“It’s not over though,” says Adora after another long pause. “Like Angella said, it might be easier to just take on the big sacrifice. But you’re back in the world now. Redemption doesn’t happen overnight.”

Catra sits up slowly. “I just want it to be done,” she says.

“I know,” says Adora. “But there is more work to do.”

Catra looks down at her hands. “I tried…to be better. But I went too far before. Even if I keep trying forever…can you forgive me? Do you think you could ever forgive me? After everything.”

Adora turns to her. “I do forgive you, Catra. But I’m not Adora. I’m just the part of you that you used to punish yourself.” She snorted. “I’d say I’m arguably the more important person to forgive you given that I’m really you but…. If you want to know if Adora can forgive you, I think you are going to have to ask her yourself.”

Catra’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Adora reached out and pulled Catra’s head back onto her should.

“That’s okay. Rest now. Etheria will be there when you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, okay, finished. 
> 
> A few final notes: I really wanted this story to reflect the non-linear nature of mental health healing. For me, Catra’s redemption is not just about being sorry for the terrible things she has done but also about starting to change the maladaptive thought patterns that lead her to do those terrible things. For anyone who has struggled with mental illness that is not something happens suddenly with an epiphany one day; it is slow and there are often many setbacks. I tried to show that she was making slow progress (she starts apologizing to people she has hurt, she catches herself before she completely pushes Scorpia away) but she still defaults to poor coping strategies when stressed. Even at the end she is not completely “healed,” despite being in a much better place to accept help. 
> 
> As I mentioned at the start, this story came about because I wanted to write a Catra/Adora fic that was season three cannon compliant. I am working on that now. I’m writing this here for accountability because I don’t want to give up on it like I did with my last Catradora fic when a new season came out and made my story decidedly not cannon-compliant. Obviously this new season is going to do the same thing, but maybe if I told the internet I would finish something I will actually do it?
> 
> Thank you for reading. This has been a blast.


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